


Ebb and Flow

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Era, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic Revealed, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin was born a creature of magic, and is so in touch with nature he can feel the earth's power with every step he takes. Unfortunately, when the gods instilled him with powerful magic, they also gifted him with gills. There's no way Prince Arthur could find a freak like him attractive...right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [texasfandoodler](http://texasfandoodler.livejournal.com/) for the [AMAZING art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4665876) and [Vaughntronic](http://vaughntronic.livejournal.com/) for the thorough beta. Y'all are great ♥
> 
> Timewise, this is set around the beginning of series 4.

 

“Is there anything else you need, sire?” Merlin asked as he set down the prince’s supper.

Arthur only briefly met Merlin’s eyes as he picked up his fork. Merlin had tried not to sound too eager to leave, but Arthur knew Merlin almost as well as Merlin knew him. A slight tonal inflection could give him away.

“That will be all for tonight, Merlin,” Arthur replied.

Merlin bowed his head in a rare display of servility and hurried through the castle corridors back to his chambers. He’d already brought the tub into his room earlier; he only had to fill it with water and heat it with magic.

Merlin was antsy all through his own supper of rabbit stew with Gaius. Gaius’s damned eyebrow was the only thing keeping him from running straight to his bedroom and jumping right out of his clothes.

Finally, Merlin drained the last of the broth and set his empty bowl down with a hollow thud.

“Night, Gaius,” he said, magically cleaning his dishes before Gaius could reprimand him.

Merlin filled two buckets a time at the water basin he and Gaius kept in their chambers, then emptied them into the large tub in his room. He’d have to refill the basin the next morning with a few trips to the water pump outside, but for now he shut his bedroom door, muttered a quick spell, and undressed.

He sank into the water and sighed at the same time his gills flared. Finally, after a whole _week_ , he’d found the time to rest. He immersed as much of his body as he could beneath the surface, closing his eyes and focusing on breathing through the six horizontal slits in his side instead of his nose. It was so good to finally use them again.

Gaius didn’t like when Merlin fell asleep in the bath because it was too risky, but sometimes Merlin couldn’t help it. He had tried to liken it to when the old man put his feet up in front of the fire on a chilly night and dozed off. It was relaxing, comforting.

The water was cold when Merlin woke up the next morning, but he didn’t really mind. It was only when it was freezing that he couldn’t stand it. As far as Merlin was concerned, any water was good water. He would take what he could get.

He dried off quickly and hurried to get dressed. He was already late with Arthur’s breakfast and told Gaius he’d come round later in the day to refill the water basin. He didn’t fancy having Arthur throw something at his head after such a peaceful evening. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to the kitchens.

As Merlin waited for Audrey to finish loading the prince’s tray, he wondered when Arthur’s next hunt would be.

Arthur had a strange fondness for impromptu hunts, so when Merlin lightly suggested the kitchen could use a bit more game, Arthur said they’d ride out the next afternoon, as he was free then. Merlin went about his chores that day more lighthearted than usual and willed the elements to hold back on the rain that was due.

“I suppose this is the time you ask if we can go swimming,” Arthur said as they wrapped the game in their packs the next afternoon.

Merlin shrugged noncommittally, but his pulse had quickened at the prospect. He never felt more at ease than when he was completely submerged in water. A tub just wasn’t the same.

“If you want to.”

"You always ask, and we always do, unless it's too cold. Why should this time be any different?" Arthur said, amused.

Merlin smiled and started for the lake.

Swimming was the only time Arthur wasn't a complete and utter prat. Merlin guessed he hadn’t got to swim much as a child and therefore enjoyed it. That only made the time they spent together so much better, because it meant both of them were happy.

"Want to see who can hold their breath longer?" Arthur asked, splashing Merlin in the face.

Merlin laughed. "No thanks. Think I already know who'll win that one."

"Have a little confidence, Merlin. Nobody likes someone that gives up before they even try."

"Good thing I don't have anyone in particular I want to impress, then." Merlin splashed him back. "Besides, I meant _I_ would win, obviously."

Arthur threw his head back and laughed at that. “You? You’re so skinny I’m surprised that body even _has_ lungs to fill.”

“How would you know if I’m skinny or not? You haven’t seen me naked.” Merlin never undressed in front of Arthur and always kept his clothes on when they went swimming, no matter how hot it was.

Arthur blushed. “Prove it to me, then. Take off your shirt.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll see who can hold their breath the longest. But I want to know what my prize will be when I win.”

“ _If_ you win, you don’t have to muck out the stables once we return. _When_ you lose, you have to take your shirt off.”

“Deal.” Without any more warning, or even taking a deep breath, Merlin ducked under the water. Arthur followed soon after.

Thanks to Merlin holding off the clouds, it was a sunny day and he could see Arthur staring back at him in the tinted blue world. Arthur’s blond hair floated lazily, drifting about his head and swaying side to side with the waves. The sun shone brightly through it, highlighting each separate shade and making Arthur himself seem to glow. The ripples of sunlight across his skin was a sight that always made its way into Merlin’s dreams.

Unlike in his dreams, Arthur wasn’t naked. He’d kept his smalls on, but even so, it left little to the imagination, what with the way the fabric clung to him like a second skin. Merlin hoped Arthur would give up soon, so he wouldn’t have to be faced with the challenge of keeping his eyes averted.

After twenty and then thirty seconds passed, Merlin smiled and stuck his tongue out at the prince. Even underwater Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn’t shove Merlin’s shoulder playfully as he normally would have done. He saved all his energy for holding his breath.

Near the minute mark Arthur gave up, and Merlin stayed under another few seconds to rub the victory in. Arthur’s hand pushing his head down made him realise it was probably a good idea to pretend to come up for air.

“Well,” Merlin began as he resurfaced, not the least bit out of breath, “whatever shall I do with my afternoon now?”

Arthur sneered and launched a spray of water at Merlin’s face. “You’ll spend it polishing my armour, that’s what.”

Merlin wiped the water out of his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “There’s simply no winning with you, is there?”

“Of course not. I’m the Crown Prince. Haven’t you learned by now, _Mer_ lin?”

One of Arthur’s feet kicked Merlin in the shin, and even though it wasn’t hard—how effectively could one kick underwater anyways?—it surprised a yelp out of Merlin all the same. It was the sentiment that bothered Merlin the most; Arthur seemed honestly angry that he’d lost their childish game.

Merlin tread carefully, falling back on banter as always. “You’re just upset you didn’t get your prize,” he said, smirking.

Arthur looked unimpressed. “Please, Merlin. If I really wanted to, I could just order you to take your shirt off.”

“Then why don’t you?”

The words escaped before Merlin could hold them back. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the answer. Arthur was a better man than that. But something in Merlin, the part of him that wanted to share everything with Arthur—his magic, his affection, and yes, even his horrid gills—had manifested itself in the form of a tactless slip of the tongue.

Arthur sputtered, taken aback. “Because!”

“Because why?”

“Because. Obviously, I’m...I’m not _that_ kind of prince, Merlin. And besides, you’re insubordinate as it is. It’s not like you’d ever listen.”

Merlin laughed it off as nonchalantly as he could manage, for which Arthur seemed grateful. “You’re certainly right about that. Sire.”

Arthur sighed and tread backwards so he could float on his back. “You’ll be the death of me, Merlin, I swear.”

Merlin didn’t like the tone of resignation in Arthur’s voice, or the way in which Arthur let his eyes slide shut. It was an obvious close to the conversation, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel he was missing a crucial part, not reading between the lines hard enough.

Still, the view wasn’t bad. It wasn’t every day that Merlin got to see the gorgeous prince of Camelot glistening wet in the sunshine, with his face to the sky and seemingly at peace. He’d seen Arthur naked plenty of times, of course—as Arthur’s manservant it was his duty to bathe and clothe him—but in the sunny weather, with Arthur’s face devoid of its usual smirking expression… That was a treasure. Merlin boldly watched Arthur float in peace for a few minutes.

Then it occurred to him that he should be using this time to swim properly. Arthur wasn’t watching; Merlin wouldn’t have to come up for air, and he could fly through the underwater world at his leisure.

“I’ll just be over there,” Merlin said. Arthur grunted and acknowledged Merlin with a lazy wave of his hand.

Merlin didn’t lose any time sinking beneath the surface. He slipped silently deep underwater, nearly to the rocky bottom, and started kicking his legs, propelling himself forward and away. There was so much space, so many different little lake plants and fish, and the shimmering sunlight was so perfectly beautiful.

Merlin pushed his arms out in front of himself and barrel rolled, navigating the currents of the water as easily as a bird flew in the air, even with his clothes loose and in the way. He laughed giddily, bubbles erupting from between his lips. A silver fish slowed in its path, eyeing Merlin warily, as if he were a sea nymph that’d lost his mind, then darted away. Merlin just laughed again.

He tried not to lose track of time and stray too far from Arthur, but he didn’t know when he’d get to do this again, when he’d next have so much freedom to swim and breathe and dance beneath the waves in the warm sunlight.

Not nearly enough time passed before Merlin began to get the feeling he often got when he left Arthur’s side whenever they were away from the castle. A tugging in his mind told him he ought to return.

Merlin curled his body into a ball, spun gracefully, and shot off back in the direction he’d come. As he neared Arthur’s strong, kicking legs, he felt the vibrations of sound from underwater. Arthur was calling his name.

Merlin swam to the surface and took in a big gulp of air as soon as his head was above water. Arthur’s neck nearly snapped from how quickly he turned to look at Merlin.

“Where were you?” Arthur demanded.

“Just over there.” Merlin waved in the general direction. “Like I said I would be.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

“What?” Merlin asked innocently. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve done this.”

And it wasn’t. Merlin always went off on his own while Arthur relaxed, floating on his back, ever since the first time they’d come out here. To Arthur it probably seemed like Merlin just really enjoyed swimming and being in the water, the same way Arthur had a passion for hunting or training. Everyone had their hobbies, right? So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Merlin had simply lost track of time doing what he loved so much.

“I didn’t see you,” Arthur said. “Thought maybe you’d drowned.”

Merlin couldn’t help it; he threw his head back and laughed.

Arthur raised a puzzled brow. “Glad you find that so funny. Come on, let’s head back. And don’t go so far out next time.”

Merlin swam behind Arthur, back to the edge of the lake. “What, did you miss me?” he teased.

Arthur snorted. “Hardly. Believe it or not, it’s actually quite nice being able to float in peace without you chattering on. No, it was just bothersome that you weren’t there when I wanted to leave, and I had to wait for you to grace me with your annoying presence again.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, then ducked underwater and swam as fast as he could the rest of the way, easily beating Arthur.

The only downside to their swimming was, of course, Merlin’s wet clothes. He always took off his boots beforehand, but his clothes were so weighed down with water that they managed to get soaked every time regardless. They made squishing sounds as he walked—because Arthur wouldn’t let him ruin the leather of the horse’s saddle by riding—and his entire body felt heavy and burdened. Ignoring Arthur’s “I told you you were a complete idiot” expression had become easier over time, though.

And Merlin always felt better after a day out swimming. He would drop the game Arthur had killed off at the kitchens, return to his room to magically dry his wet clothes, then lay on his bed, closing his eyes and remembering the feeling of flying through the water. Sometimes he’d lie there until the sun went down and he had to serve Arthur supper, and sometimes he just fell asleep that way, where his dreams were of him and Arthur, naked beneath the waves in the shimmering sunlight.

Today, unfortunately, was the former. There was no time to fall into a restful sleep, and shortly after lying down to cast his mind back to the afternoon, Merlin sat up to study before he was needed again. When the natural light began to fade, Merlin closed his spellbook and hid it away.

He knew something was wrong the moment he walked into Arthur’s chambers with supper. Arthur was slumped in his chair by the fire, holding his chin in his hand and staring ahead at seemingly nothing. He didn’t even move when Merlin placed his food down on the table.

Merlin could guess the cause of Arthur’s sour mood. He’d probably gone to see his father again, the once mighty king of Camelot still mourning Morgana’s betrayal. If Gwen’s chewed lips were anything to go by, the king’s state of oblivion had not improved.

It made Merlin ache to see Arthur so forlorn after a pleasant day spent carelessly hunting and swimming.

“Sire?” Merlin nudged cautiously. Arthur didn’t reply. He probably only blinked because he had to. Merlin tried something else. “Really, Arthur, you’re not so fat you should starve yourself.”

That got a snort out of the prince, even a barely noticeable twitch of his lips. Merlin tried not to smile too triumphantly and poured wine into a goblet beside the plate.

“If you won’t eat this, I know someone who’d be glad to,” Merlin continued. “Dark hair, winning smile, bit on the tall side? Know who I mean?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of the chair. “You wouldn’t dare eat the prince’s supper, Merlin,” he said, walking over.

“No, of course not, sire,” Merlin replied, grin widening. He turned away to begin tidying the room.

Merlin had stoked the fire, swept the hearth, put away clothing, organised documents into a neat pile, and turned down the bed before he looked back to find Arthur pouring more wine into his goblet. Arthur’s cheeks were already flushed pink with intoxication and his hand was swaying from the effort of holding the jug steady.

Merlin hurried to Arthur’s side. “I think that’s enough, sire,” he said, taking the jug from Arthur’s grasp. “It’s getting late. Perhaps you should try to sleep.”

Arthur swatted Merlin’s hand away and reached for his cup. Merlin sighed and watched helplessly as Arthur drained half of it in three large gulps.

“Arthur, it’s late—”

“It’s not your place to decide anything for the Crown Prince, _Mer_ lin!” Arthur snapped, setting the goblet down with a loud thud. “Can I not even be miserable in peace?”

Merlin took a respectful step backwards. “I apologise, sire, I only meant—”

“You only meant for me to retire early so you could go to the tavern like you always do, or meet with some woman down in the lower city,” Arthur finished for him. “Just put the brooding prince to bed and go have a good time before you have to wake up and do it all again. Leave me here to stare aimlessly ahead, mourning the decline of my father. He’s a king but he’s a man too, you know. I seem to be the only person who hasn’t forgot that.”

“That’s—That’s not true at all!” Merlin sputtered. “I would never abandon you, Arthur. Nor do I visit the tavern nearly as much as you think, and I promise you, no such woman in the lower city exists.”

As if anyone could compare or take up Merlin’s whole world as dominantly as Arthur did. As if anyone could ever even _want_ a deformed creature such as Merlin. He’d more than a few times lain in bed and ran a finger along the folds of his gills as he got himself off, wondering what a prostitute would think. Wondering against his better judgement what _Arthur_ would think.

“A lad then,” Arthur remarked, reaching for his goblet. “One of the stable boys, no doubt. They always were up for a tumble in one of the stalls.”

Merlin grabbed the cup and moved it out of Arthur’s grasp. “Arthur, please. Stop. You’re not yourself.”

“You don’t deny it, then?” Arthur said, raising his glassy eyes to Merlin’s.

“I don’t deny that drinking yourself silly won’t help anything, certainly not tomorrow morning when I’ve got to deal with you.”

Arthur sneered and slumped back into his chair. “Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which stable boy?”

Merlin sighed in exasperation. “Arthur, I’m telling you there’s no one. Nobody, woman or man, would look twice at me even if I wanted them to. And it’s no business of yours either way. Now would you please get up and go to bed?”

Arthur’s mouth tilted in a pouty frown and his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you say that, Merlin?”

“Yes, I know, I’m not supposed to make demands of the Crown Prince,” Merlin responded, rolling his eyes. “But really, Arthur, it’s all for your—”

“No, no,” Arthur waved it off. “Why do you think no one would look twice at you?”

Merlin blinked. “What?”

“It’s not as though you’re unattractive,” Arthur said. “Despite those unfortunate ears and that doe-eyed expression.”

Merlin stuttered, at a loss for words. Did Arthur just call him attractive?

No, Arthur was definitely not himself. He wouldn’t dare talk so openly about things like this if it weren’t for the wine.

Arthur leaned forward and reached for the goblet once more. Merlin was almost too distracted deciphering words to notice, but reached to stop him at the last second, a second just too late.

“This will be the last one, Merlin,” Arthur said. “The last cup, and then you can go do whatever it is that is so important you find it suitable to order me to bed.”

That kicked Merlin’s brain into proper working order again. What he had actually planned to do was return to studying from his spellbook, practising defensive spells in preparation for an attack by Morgana. The afternoon spent swimming and connecting with nature had left him feeling rejuvenated, and his magic was thrumming happily, eager to get some use.

“Perhaps it hasn’t occurred to you that it really is quite late and I’d simply like to go to sleep myself. Sire,” Merlin replied.

The expression on Arthur’s face was sceptical as he drained the rest of his goblet. He swatted Merlin away at first, but then let Merlin help him stand and guide him to bed. Merlin quickly removed his boots and clothes, leaving him in only his smalls. Arthur waved Merlin away, muttering, “That’ll be all, Merlin,” and rolled over onto his side beneath the covers.

Merlin began snuffing out the candles, and Arthur’s breathing steadied into a slow, easy rhythm. Merlin was certain Arthur was already heavily under by the time he reached the last candle at Arthur’s bedside, but Arthur’s rough voice pierced the silence.

“Merlin?”

Merlin stilled his hand, perched above the last candle flame. “Yes, Arthur?”

“Do you believe there’s a chance he’ll get better?” he asked, and Merlin knew instantly of whom Arthur was speaking. “Has Gaius or Guinevere said anything?”

Merlin chewed his lip, formulating an answer. Neither Gaius, Gwen, nor the maid who often helped Gwen had said anything that hinted at a possible recovery. At last, he said, “As far as medicine goes, I’m not sure. But maybe he simply needs a reason to smile. My mother always said one never got any better if they sulked all the time. If you want it badly enough, you’ll recover.”

Arthur stirred beneath the heavy fabric, turning to look at him. “You don’t think he wants to recover?”

Merlin continued carefully. “I think, perhaps, wherever his mind is right now… He feels he has no reason to want it badly enough.”

Arthur propped himself up on his elbow. “Am I not enough? His own son?”

Merlin didn’t need to bring up Morgana’s revelation of her being, in fact, Uther’s own daughter. He saw the knowledge rise to the forefront of Arthur’s mind as a pained expression crossed Arthur’s face.

“Of course you are enough, Arthur. You simply haven’t said the right thing to get through to him yet. But you will. You’ll find a way, I know it.”

Arthur lay back with a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such blind faith.”

Merlin wanted to say that it wasn’t only what Arthur had done, but what he would do, what he was destined to do. Instead he put out the candle. “Good night, sire.”

Merlin returned to his room and lit a single candle with which to see by. He retrieved his spellbook from its hiding place, then plopped down onto his bed, opening to the bookmarked page.

He'd been looking up shields before he went to serve Arthur. Normal, deflective, and absorbing shields he could do well enough; his innate magical ability made the task nearly thoughtless. It was reflective shields that interested him. He wasn't even aware such magic existed until he came upon the page in the book. These shields would let him repel a magic attack back at the attacker, with more force if Merlin added his own magic to it. Merlin set upon learning the spell intently.

It was always difficult learning something new, but by the time Merlin's eyes were drifting closed with fatigue he felt he had got the hang of it. The only problem was that he had no one attacking him, and therefore no way in which to test its effectiveness. Not that he was complaining; he'd had enough of threats on Camelot and Arthur. He could always put the spell to practise the next time some sorcerer with a grudge managed to slip into the castle walls.

Merlin got to his feet, closing the book. He set it on the table as he walked to the window.

Summer was coming to a close. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer and colder. Looking at the sky, Merlin noticed the grey clouds were blocking out the stars. He remembered putting off the rain today so that Arthur and he could have a pleasant day. He let the rain fall freely now.

Merlin could feel the release of tension as the sky broke and the elements thanked him for being allowed to run their course. Thunder rolled appreciatively.

Merlin stared out at the sleeping city a little while longer, breathing in the chill night air and feeling the earth's natural magic seep into his skin. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could sense the magic of the Old Religion vibrating in the air, could breathe in the sweet scent of the forest all the way from the citadel. The earth, the sea, the sky—they were calling to him, nature’s energy flowing through his veins, and he longed to be connected with it again, deep in the water where he felt the extent of his power the most acutely.

Only when a flash of lightning split the sky like a chiding slap on the wrist did he turn away from the window and go to bed.

It looked like it would rain all the next day, preventing Arthur from doing anything outdoors. He was always bitter when restricted inside, so Merlin went to Arthur's chambers the next morning prepared to have at least two things thrown his way. If he was lucky, it wouldn't be anything too hard and pointy.

Merlin also came prepared with a phial of something rather nasty-tasting but effective in treating headaches, which Arthur was sure to have after how much he’d drank the previous night. He set Arthur's breakfast down on the table, put the phial on Arthur's nightstand, and pulled the curtains apart to let the muted sunlight in.

"Rise and shine!" he sang.

Arthur groaned and burrowed deeper under the blanket. "Can't you think of anything new to say?"

Merlin put his hands on his hips and raised an amused eyebrow. "The last time I tried that you threw something at me."

"I'll throw something bigger at you if you don't close those blasted curtains."

Merlin sighed but acquiesced. "Only because you don't have to be anywhere soon this morning."

At that, Arthur did roll over and peer at Merlin with a heavy-lidded eye. "I don't?"

"It's raining. Your morning training session is cancelled. Also, none of the patrols have returned so there are no meetings to—"

"Haven't returned?" Arthur echoed, sitting upright.

"No, sire. But perhaps the rain has delayed them?"

Arthur frowned, obviously not convinced of Merlin's explanation, or maybe it was the headache that had him pinching his face. Merlin picked the phial off the nightstand, unstoppered it, and handed it to Arthur.

"Here, drink this. Quickly, all in one go."

Arthur took it gratefully and swallowed in one large gulp. Merlin set the emptied container back on the table.

"Breakfast?" Merlin asked.

Arthur groaned and threw back the covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Merlin had to retreat a few steps and divert his eyes. Even with his hair in disarray and fresh from sleep, Arthur seemed to give off some sort of glow. It took Merlin by surprise nearly every morning without fail, something he’d especially hated when he was first assigned as Arthur’s manservant. It’d been frustrating wanting to reach out and touch Arthur's sleep-warm body when he was acting like a spoilt arse.

Merlin squared his shoulders and went about his morning chores, choosing something for Arthur to wear, cleaning Arthur’s boots, and straightening the bed. Arthur seemed to be brooding over something again this morning, and hadn’t finished his breakfast by the time Merlin completed his tasks.

Merlin thought he’d just take Arthur’s basket of dirty, foul-smelling clothing down to the laundresses when Arthur called him back.

“Merlin.”

Merlin halted in his tracks. “Yes, sire?”

Arthur eyed the half-eaten apple in his hand as if it had said something to offend him. “I’d like to apologise for my behaviour last night.”

Merlin didn’t see why Arthur felt the need to apologise, especially since it was something he hardly ever did. Never did, in fact. He’d been drunk, hadn’t been able to help his outbursts. It happened to the best of men, and Merlin had assumed they’d just put the whole thing behind them. But he wasn’t going to pass up the rare chance to see Arthur display some sort of humility.

“Er...You would?”

Arthur set the apple down and sat back, folding his hands across his stomach. His tone shifted to that of his most arrogant, or his most princely, as Arthur would call it. “Yes. It’s no concern of mine what you get up to in your spare time, least of all with whom you choose to keep company. I apologise for my unbefitting behaviour.”

Merlin shifted his weight to his other foot, uncomfortable under Arthur’s intense stare. “Yes, well, apology accepted, I suppose.”

“You _suppose_?”

“No, that’s not—” Merlin sighed. “It’s simply strange that you find it necessary to apologise over something as trivial as ‘unbefitting behaviour’ and not something like, say, throwing a goblet at my head or using me as your personal training dummy or making me wear that _awful_ feathered hat.”

Arthur snickered, clearly thinking of the same ridiculous red outfit that Merlin still had nightmares about.

“And honestly, between doing things for Gaius and running around behind you, I have no idea how you think I’d manage to find time for romance. Not that it bothers me,” Merlin hastened to add. “It’s never bothered me before, and it doesn’t now.”

Merlin bit his tongue. He’d said too much. That last bit had been wholly unnecessary, and now Arthur was staring at him curiously, pursing his lips as if contemplating how to comment on that piece of information. Merlin tried to escape with the basket of clothes still held tightly in his hands.

“Merlin.”

Merlin halted and spun on his heels slowly. “Yes?”

Arthur’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth to ask—Merlin knew _exactly_ what he would ask, and dreaded it, because the answer was, embarrassingly, yes—but then decided better of it. He shook his head and waved Merlin off.

Merlin exhaled in relief and quickly made his way downstairs. Hopefully Arthur would have moved on to other things by the time Merlin returned.

Arthur had already begun to dress himself when Merlin came back. He had just pulled his trousers up over the swell of his arse—the sight of which made Merlin’s breath hitch in his throat—as Merlin opened the door. Arthur abruptly dropped his hands.

“It’s about time,” he said petulantly.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why I have to dress you if you’re perfectly capable.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Merlin. Royals do not dress themselves. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, of course not,” Merlin muttered as he set to work tying up the laces of Arthur’s trousers, taking especial care as always not to be too heavy-handed. He picked up Arthur’s tunic from where it lay folded on the bed and put it over Arthur’s head.

He turned away to get Arthur’s boots. As he bent over to pick them up, Arthur apparently lost the battle against his curiosity and better judgement and asked what he’d stopped himself from asking before.

“Oh, for gods’ sake, I give up. I have to know. Are you a virgin, Merlin?”

Merlin snapped upright, nearly dropping the boots, and spun around, blushing. “Arthur!”

He was lucky that Merlin considered him a friend, in their backward sort of way. Merlin would’ve been more than just mortified if anyone else had asked; he would’ve been angry that someone had the audacity to pry into his personal life. But then, Arthur was also the man he thought about when he touched himself, which certainly made a difference, made his heart race nervously.

“I simply can’t understand it,” Arthur continued, unaware of how much Merlin had started sweating. “Is it that you don’t want to?”

“That I don’t—Of course I want to! I have needs and, and urges just like anyone else.”

Arthur stared at Merlin incredulously, quite clearly caught between the desire to ask more and the need to remain as uninterested as was ‘befitting.’ Merlin relented with a drawn out sigh. If he didn’t satisfy Arthur’s curiosity now, he’d just bring it up again later.

“I’m not like you, Arthur,” he said, waving his hands between them in a general gesture. “I mean, I look decent enough, I suppose, but the rest of me is all...undesirable.”

Arthur raised a brow. “Are you, er...lacking?”

It took Merlin a moment to understand, and even then it was only the blush that rose to Arthur’s cheeks that clued him in.

“Oh gods, no!” he exclaimed, not sure whether to be horrified at the question or amused that Arthur was actually blushing. He ended up laughing. Yes, laughing was safe, appropriate for their established relationship. “Everything is all perfectly average-sized down there, thank you!”

“So it’s your upper body then,” Arthur concluded. Merlin stopped laughing. “That’s why you never take your shirt off. Is it your nipples? I’ve known men who are self-conscious about the shape of their—”

“It’s not my sodding nipples!” Merlin protested, face heating even more. At this point Arthur was taking it too far. “You want to talk nipples, let’s talk about how you have almost as much cleavage as Guinevere,” he spat.

Arthur didn’t rise to the insult. He squinted his eyes, looking closely at Merlin as he took a step toward him. “A scar then? Were you maimed as a child?”

“No!”

Arthur’s mouth tilted slightly upward. “Is it because you’re not as muscular? Really, Merlin, there’s no shame in being a little on the lanky side.”

Merlin laughed bitterly. He was anything but lanky, and it was only his ill-fitting clothing that made it seem so. Maybe once, when he’d been younger, he’d been a bit skinny, but since he was fifteen he’d always had strong arms and legs, toned muscles that he’d acquired from swimming. Even the section of abdomen that his gills intersected was lean and sculpted.

“No, Arthur. And honestly, why do you care so much? I’m nothing but your servant. It doesn’t make a difference to you either way.”

Arthur huffed. “You’re so—You drive me mad, Merlin!”

“ _I_ do? Me?”

“Yes! You’re always putting others above yourself, you endure me even when I’m intolerable and pissed, and you’re so...so confident in every other aspect, that it’s a complete mystery to me why you would even think a fraction of yourself ‘undesirable.’ You simultaneously claim there’s nothing and something wrong with you and...and...UGH!” Arthur threw his hands up in defeat and turned away for good measure.

Merlin forced himself to breathe. Those were all definitely compliments that just came from the prince’s mouth. Weren’t they?

“Right, glad we cleared that up then,” Merlin said when he could think of nothing else. He tossed Arthur’s boots on the floor beside him. “Is there anything else you need, sire, or will that be all?”

Arthur turned to face him again, but didn’t speak. He stared at Merlin like he was trying to figure him out, as though he had solved the puzzle save a couple pieces that he couldn’t quite place. At the same time, he looked anguished and his mouth tilted in a pained frown.

The expression unnerved Merlin, who hated seeing it on Arthur’s handsome face and wished dearly to smooth away the lines. As it was, Merlin was a servant and barely a friend, and kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

At last, Arthur sighed, his features relaxing. “Forgive me, Merlin. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Merlin could piece together some of Arthur’s argument. To Arthur, it must have seemed the easiest thing in the world for Merlin to find someone with which to keep company, and his advice must have made him seem mature, confident. Merlin replied in as friendly a manner as he could, while also attempting to reveal the partial truth.

He shrugged to let Arthur know how little the questions troubled him. “It’s alright. You only wish to understand. I can see how that might be frustrating.” Merlin swallowed and took a breath. “It’s only, I can’t explain why I feel so...so ugly—”

“You are _not_ ugly, Merlin.”

“Regardless—” Merlin stopped himself. He didn't want to get upset, but he was beginning to feel rather sorry for himself, and he generally tried to avoid that. “Will that be all, sire?”

Arthur pressed his lips together in a thin line, but he must have seen how ridiculous the whole conversation was as well. Merlin refused to begin listing his own undesirable qualities just to prove his unattractiveness to the prince, and Arthur… He seemed determined to make Merlin believe he was some sort of prize, all for the sake of losing his virginity. Merlin couldn't believe how stupid the entire argument was.

“Yes, Merlin, that will be all for now. I’m sure Gaius has much for you to do, considering you have little time for anything else.”

Merlin grit his teeth, biting back a retort, and turned on his heels to leave. He didn’t even care that he’d left Arthur’s breakfast tray and failed to empty the chamberpot.

Like most of their disagreements, it was soon forgotten and in the past. There were times when Merlin caught Arthur staring curiously at him again, as though a question was about to slip through, but it was never brought up. Arthur respected Merlin's privacy, for which Merlin was simultaneously grateful and disappointed. He almost wished Arthur would ask again so that Merlin would be forced to tell the truth—that it was Arthur and Arthur alone he craved, Arthur that he dreamt of and imagined late at night.

It never came up.

Two weeks passed, and it had been more than long enough for the last patrol to have returned. Arthur began to visibly fret and it wasn't long before he, not surprisingly, declared he would lead a group to search for them. There was a chance they had located Morgana and were taken prisoner, or that they had got close and were attacked by her own sentries. It was not the work of bandits—they were knights of Camelot, after all—and each day that passed was a day their trail went cold. They would leave at dawn.

The day before they left, Merlin made all the necessary preparations early so that he could spend the evening taking a long, warm bath. Once they began travelling, it would be a tedious journey, with nights spent on the cold, hard earth, and Merlin's nerves would be on constant alert for signs of a threat.

Gaius gave Merlin bandages and all sorts of potions and salves to take with him for treating effects from poisonous plants, sore limbs, or bleeding wounds. Merlin loaded his pack, went over the shield spell a few more times, then hurried to ready the horses. Despite being thoroughly prepared, Merlin's magic seemed uneasy, and a terrible sense of foreboding weighed heavily on him as they left the city walls.

The first day of travelling was filled with the normal silence, the mission in the forefront of everyone's minds. What would they find as they followed the footsteps of the lost patrol? Corpses, or valuable information about the enemy? It seemed even the trees were quiet and respectful, not swaying as happily as they might in the late summer breeze. It didn't sit well with Merlin at all.

The third day found the party of nine a bit more relaxed. As they travelled deeper, farther away from the heart of the kingdom, everyone became less tense and on edge. They joked and told stories, and though they never once let their guard down, they became a little more at ease. They soon expected to find—or not find—the lost men, and return home.

The fourth night was when the inevitable happened. Merlin fed and brushed the horses while the rest of the knights began to drift off to sleep at their various places around the fire. Sir Gareth had taken the first watch, and it was he that allowed Merlin to join him as they walked the perimeter of the camp. Merlin’s magic had been more restless than ever the whole afternoon, and Merlin knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without putting up at least a few sigils on the trees. Merlin would sense it the instant someone stepped within his barrier, and if any magic users happened by, they would know the area was under the protection of a powerful warlock.

It was no light step of a magic user, however, that both he and Sir Gareth heard on their seventh revolution of the camp. Merlin felt the prickly dark intent of the intruder entering his domain and took a step toward the darkness of the trees.

Gareth’s hand alighted on Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him back. Merlin scowled at him but Gareth didn’t notice, shoving Merlin behind him and drawing his sword. It wasn’t a second too soon, because only a heartbeat later an armour-clad man came charging into the clearing, leading a group of yelling warriors behind him.

The clash of metal and the roar of battle quickly alerted the rest of the knights. Merlin felt himself being pulled backwards by his neckerchief and his heart raced as he panicked at being taken unawares. However, it was only Arthur, dragging Merlin out of the melee and pushing him back toward the horses, before drawing his sword and running to join the brawl himself.

Merlin scanned the mass of bodies, watching with apprehension each swing of a sword and strafe of feet. He prayed to the gods that each grunt and groan heard was that of the enemy and not a Camelot knight.

Merlin stroked a horse’s neck gently and began walking backwards into the shadows. Everyone, Arthur especially, was occupied with more than one attacker, and though Merlin could only prevent so many blows from falling, he couldn’t stop them all.

Something wasn’t right. Merlin sensed magic, _dark_ magic, though from where, he couldn’t tell. If he stopped for a moment to feel it out, let the crackle in the air guide him towards the source, he would certainly find it. But there was too much going on, too many people to keep track of, too many blades aimed at his beloved prince—

Suddenly Merlin was pushed back by an unknown force, half his body smacking against a tree as he was propelled backwards. His shoulder felt like it had been torn from its socket and the left side of his body throbbed in pain. He fell roughly on his back, his head bouncing off the gnarled roots of yet another tree.

Merlin couldn’t see his attacker; they were too far from the light of the fire, and the thick foliage blocked the moon. All he saw was a black shape, flowing with a cloak, coming towards him at a leisurely pace. Merlin raised his right hand, a spell already on his lips, when he heard a cry that sent a shiver down his spine.

He snapped his head to the left and felt his chest clench in agony as he saw a blade pierced straight through Arthur’s shoulder. It was the same shoulder that the questing beast had hurt so long ago, that still gave him trouble on particularly cold or rainy days. What was worse, the man whose sword had landed the blow, pulled free and raised his weapon to strike again.

Ignoring the threat on his own life, Merlin rolled and scrambled toward Arthur, words of power pouring from his mouth. He crawled forward on hands and knees, desperately trying to close the distance though they were so far away, and finally let loose a torrent of magic, shattering every bone in the attacker’s body simultaneously. The blade dropped from his hands and he fell to the ground, only a step away from where Arthur had passed out.

Merlin tried to get to his feet so he could run the remaining distance, but as soon as he was upright he was knocked back down by a heavy weight between his shoulder blades. He collapsed with a pained grunt, and black spots dotted his vision.

He rolled onto his back, digging his fingers into the earth and drawing desperately for natural power, begging, pleading the elements to come to his aid. The wind picked up and the leaves were torn from the trees, spiralling in a whirlwind towards the cloaked figure, aiming for the fragile face that was hidden beneath the hood.

But Merlin was weak, and his thoughts were on Arthur, on whether or not he was still alive or bleeding out. Groaning, Merlin dug his fingers deeper, urged the ground to split apart and swallow up the dark sorcerer, but all Merlin succeeded in doing was cause the figure to trip.

The shadow was almost upon him now. In a final attempt, Merlin raised his hand, and the branch above cracked as it began to separate from the rest of the tree. Merlin pushed a little more, added more power, drawing from deep within. But then the shadow raised a staff, swung at Merlin’s head, and then it was too late.

Merlin woke up to a throbbing headache. In fact, his whole body seemed to pulse in time to his heart, leaving him with an aching feeling all over. It didn’t help that wherever he was was cold and hard and generally unpleasant. He would coax the air around him to heat up a bit, and that would take care of the temperature problem at least.

But… he couldn’t access his magic.

Merlin snapped his eyes open and the first thing his gaze landed upon was the flickering shadow on the cave wall across from him. There was only a single candle lighting the entire chamber, though the space was small and therefore amply lit.

The second thing he noticed was the shackles around his wrists securing him to the wall. Cold iron.

“No!” Merlin pulled and pushed the metal, trying to yank himself free of the bonds, his only achievement being to make his skin tear and bleed. He ignored the pain and pressed on, only occasionally wincing when it chafed too much.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch and jerk away.

“Merlin.”

Merlin knew that voice. He blinked and brought the face into focus, peering through the haze of pain.

“Arthur!”

Oh thank gods, Arthur was alive. It even looked like his wound had been treated. “Who are they?”

Arthur’s mouth tilted in a sneer. “Allies of Morgana and Morgause. We’re to be kept alive and taken to them.”

Merlin didn’t miss the emphasis on ‘we.’ Arthur was clearly confused as to why they’d decided to keep Merlin, a simple servant, alive as well.

They had to get out.

Merlin went back to fighting with his restraints. If he could just slip his wrists a certain way...

“Merlin.”

Arthur’s voice was gentle, even a little worried. Merlin knew what he’d find if he looked up, that rare display of emotion Arthur sometimes let slip past his hard exterior. But there was no time for gentility, not now, not when Merlin felt the loss of his magic as if a piece of himself had been cut off. Without his magic...

A chuckle cut through the metallic rattle of Merlin’s chains, making Merlin abruptly still. He raised his head and looked at the dark entrance to their chamber from where the sound was coming.

The shadow from the forest emerged into the light. His hood was lowered, revealing a balding man old enough for his hair and beard to be grey, and cold eyes filled with sparkling hatred. Merlin felt himself tremble with rage. This man had taken away his magic, his life.

But on the man’s robe was a familiar symbol. Perhaps there was hope.

“Foolish little sorcerer,” the man said. “I must admit, you’re quite strong. Morgana certainly wasn’t exaggerating that. Now...Well, now you’re little more than a servant, aren’t you?”

Merlin ignored Arthur’s gasp beside him. He clenched his jaw and stared daggers at the man, loathing him more with each step that brought them closer together. But his words were puzzling. Morgana didn’t know about Merlin’s magic. Neither did Morgause.

“She’ll be pleased,” he continued. “She said that the prince had a sorcerer serving him, but I never would have believed for a second she meant actually _served_ him.”

That explained it. Morgana—or Morgause—must have pieced together that someone was protecting Arthur.

Merlin was on his feet in a second, and in the man’s face in less than three. “You’re a druid,” Merlin said. “That mark on your robe—that _is_ what it means, yes? The druids are peaceful and have sworn their allegiance to Emrys—”

The druid sorcerer scoffed. “Emrys. He is nothing but a made-up legend, meant to reassure the feeble-minded. No, I won’t put my faith in some imaginary man destined to ‘bring magic back to Albion.’ The Pendragons are good for nothing,” he spat, glaring down at Arthur. “If you want something done, you must take it into your own hands.”

“And that is why you’ve strayed from the path? Why you’ve allied yourself with Morgana?” Merlin asked.

“It is. The sisters are strong, and they are becoming stronger. Together they will reclaim Camelot and the time of magic will again be upon us.”

“You’re wrong. Arthur is the Once and Future King, _your_ Once and Future King, and he _will_ bring magic back to Albion, you must simply trust—”

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that same children’s story the druids preach,” the sorcerer said, giving Merlin a scornful look.

“I do. I believe it with every breath in my body.”

“You might think about saving your precious few breaths on something more worthwhile.”

Merlin’s jaw clenched. He stared hard at the old man before him, wanting to shatter his bones the same way he did Arthur’s attacker. But if he’d been weak back in the forest he was even weaker now. He had no magic, and life was slowly slipping from his body the longer he was without it.

“What is your name?”

The sorcerer laughed. “Ruadan.”

“I’ll kill you, Ruadan.” For taking away his magic, for calling him and his destiny a children’s story, he’d gladly dispose of this threat to Camelot.

Ruadan’s triumphant grin disappeared, replaced by a hateful scowl. He thrust out his hand, slamming Merlin back into the wall.

“You are nothing without magic, _boy_. If Morgana didn’t wish to see you and the prince back alive, I’d have killed you both long ago.” Ruadan threw his head back and laughed, his raspy sounds of amusement echoing even when he’d left the chamber.

Merlin chewed his lip and went right back to trying to get the damned shackles off. He couldn’t bear to be without his magic a second longer, not only because he wasn’t whole without it, but because he’d die if he couldn’t let it flow freely through him.

Arthur’s cold hands came to rest on top of his. “ _Merlin_.”

“What?!” Merlin snapped.

“They’re not going to come off. You’re hurting yourself for no reason.”

“Don’t say that! They have to come off, they have to.” Merlin set about it furiously, but couldn’t help thinking Arthur might be right.

They _had_ to come off. He couldn’t die here, not like this, not in front of Arthur. Merlin felt himself start to panic. He couldn’t breathe properly and he felt his gills flapping wildly beneath his shirt as not enough oxygen reached his lungs.

“Merlin.”

Merlin let his hands fall into his lap, giving up at Arthur’s stern tone. “He’s right,” Merlin said miserably. “I’m nothing without my magic. I can barely protect you _with_ it and now… Now we’re both going to die.”

Merlin was almost too frightened to look up. He wasn’t ready to see Arthur’s face. But Arthur’s silence made avoiding it unbearable. At last, he dared a glance sideways.

Arthur, not surprisingly, was frowning. What was surprising, however, was the way he furrowed his brow and bit his lip, as though he wasn’t angry, but having trouble comprehending something. Merlin certainly couldn’t blame him for that. There were probably lots of situations Arthur was now considering in a new light. How that would affect Merlin—and, more importantly, their odd friendship—remained to be seen.

If they lived long enough for the revelation to affect them at all, of course.

Merlin was still waiting for some sort of verbal reply long moments later. He darted his eyes up when he heard Arthur inhale as if in preparation to speak. Arthur’s lips had indeed parted, but just a second later he closed them again. Merlin lowered his gaze and went back to rubbing the chafe-marks on his wrists with his thumbs.

Then one of Arthur’s shackled hands tugged on Merlin’s neckerchief, pulling his head down to his shoulder. Merlin blinked in surprise as he was pulled closer into an awkward embrace meant to comfort. He hadn’t even realised Arthur’s armour had been taken until his nose was pressed against the fabric of Arthur’s gambeson.

“We’ll be fine,” Arthur said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m sure my knights are searching for us.”

Merlin suddenly couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of blood rushing through ears. Even though some of the positioning was all wrong—they _were_ in chains, after all—Arthur’s arm over Merlin’s shoulder, holding him close, was the most intimate they’d ever been. Merlin could smell Arthur’s sweat and the herbal salve used to treat his wound. He could feel Arthur’s reassuring solidity and warmth, even though he was in no better a situation than Merlin.

And wasn’t this all...wrong? Wasn’t Arthur supposed to be angry or at least disappointed that Merlin lied? The embrace was nice—Merlin was even thinking about taking it a step further and wrapping his arm around Arthur’s chest to make it a full-on hug—but wasn’t this reaction a little incongruous? Where was the yelling and declarations of betrayal?

Maybe that would come later, when they weren’t in immediate danger. For now, Merlin would take what comfort he could get, and speak to Arthur as though he weren’t completely puzzled.

“It won’t matter if they don’t find us soon,” Merlin replied, turning his head to rest his cheek on Arthur’s shoulder. “I need magic like I need air and water. Without it, I’ll die. I’m already weak. I can hardly hold myself up. And I’m so _thirsty_.”

Arthur looked down at Merlin with wide, fearful eyes. “You’ll die without magic?”

Merlin swallowed and nodded. The action had his cheek rubbing against Arthur’s worn gambeson, and the touch should not have made Merlin feel so utterly _right_ given the circumstances.

“Not all sorcerers are like that though, are they?”

Merlin wanted to say he wasn’t a sorcerer, he was a warlock. He wasn’t some ordinary spellcaster that didn’t know the first thing about the laws of magic; he’d been making things float before he could even speak. He wanted to say that he was the last dragonlord, that he was _the_ Emrys. That he had _gills_ , for fuck’s sake. But Arthur was taking it so well, for the moment. Learning about the extent of Merlin’s power might be too much.

“No,” Merlin gave in. “I’m...a bit weird.”

Arthur laughed. “Even when it comes to magic you can’t follow the rules?”

Merlin cracked a wry smile. “I suppose not.”

Arthur was quiet a few moments. When he broke the silence, his voice was almost a whisper. “Tell me everything you’ve done.”

Merlin looked up, but Arthur wasn’t looking down at him. His eyes were closed.

“I shouldn’t...”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open, and his brow furrowed with angry hurt. “Why the hell not?”

Merlin lifted his head from Arthur’s shoulder and placed a palm on Arthur’s chest, begging with his eyes for Arthur to understand.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that! I only meant because I’m so thirsty and talking will make it worse.” Arthur’s expression seemed to soften a bit, so Merlin dared to go on. “And my body...Arthur, I can feel the life being sucked out of me.”

Arthur blinked a few times, then his gaze lowered to where Merlin’s hand lay splayed across his chest. Merlin watched dumbly as his hand rose and fell with each of Arthur’s breaths. He knew he should move it. He knew Arthur _expected_ him to move it. And yet, he didn’t want to. Arthur didn’t seem to mind.

So he left it.

“I’ll try to get them to give us a waterskin when they come back,” Arthur said, raising his eyes back to Merlin’s. “I don’t think I can do much about anything else, unfortunately.”

Merlin hesitantly lowered his head back to Arthur’s shoulder, testing if he was still welcome there. It seemed he was.

“That’s fine,” Merlin said. “It’s probably best you do it anyways. I don’t think Ruadan is rather pleased with me at the moment.”

Arthur snorted. “You were being an idiot, as usual. You don’t just declare you’re going to kill someone, _Mer_ lin, no matter how angry they make you. You bide your time and plan an attack.”

Merlin was searching the dregs of his mind for a witty retort, but was suddenly so overcome with fatigue that he could hardly keep his eyes open.

“Merlin?” Arthur shook him when he’d started to lean more heavily on Arthur’s shoulder. “Merlin!”

Merlin groaned and tried to take some of his weight off of Arthur, certain that he was a burden, but Arthur’s arms kept him from going anywhere. He couldn’t find the will to do much more about it, and gave in. At the same time, a wave of numbness seemed to pull him under. He felt disconnected from his body entirely.

“Merlin?” Arthur shook him again, but Merlin’s eyes had already closed, and it seemed like too much effort to open them again. “Oh gods, how the hell have you gone so pale so fast? Merlin...”

That was the last thing Merlin heard before he awoke what must have been some hours later. When he next opened his eyes, the candle had burned down considerably.

He was laying with his cheek to Arthur’s chest, half on top of him, and Arthur himself was breathing steadily. Merlin’s heart began to race but he didn’t dare move, not yet. Sleeping with Arthur—even in the most innocent sense of the word, as they were doing now—was a moment Merlin wanted to savour.

 

When Merlin finally did sit up, he did it slowly, not wanting to disturb his prince, but the sound of the chains roused him anyways.

“Hnn,” Arthur groaned and rubbed an eye with the back of his hand. Merlin thought he looked so young that way, so innocent. Then Arthur registered their surroundings and he quickly became the man Merlin was used to. “You’re awake.”

“No, I’m sleeping with my eyes open.” His mouth was as dry as a desert, and his voice came out appropriately rough.

Arthur ignored Merlin’s sarcasm and scanned the ground around them, feeling the shadows with his hands. When he finally found what he was searching for, he held up his prize.

“I got them to give us a waterskin. I said it wouldn’t help if we died from dehydration before we arrived.” He handed it to Merlin and Merlin was surprised to find it was mostly still full. “I saved as much as I could for you, considering...”

Merlin took it gratefully and raised an eyebrow, urging Arthur to continue.

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out,” Arthur admitted. “But I figured you’d need lots of water since you...” He waved his hands in Merlin's general direction, and Merlin arched his eyebrow higher. Oh gods, had Arthur looked under his shirt while he’d been sleeping? “I thought maybe you needed more than the average person. I don’t know, just _drink_ , you idiot.”

Merlin brought the waterskin to his lips, drinking deeply. Maybe Arthur just thought he needed more water to offset the loss of his magic. Merlin decided he’d tread carefully, just in case.

“Thank you, Arthur. You should drink more, too. I promise I don’t need much more than ‘the average person’ as you say. And besides, your shoulder—”

“Was healed for the most part. One of the men mended it.” Arthur scowled as he said the next bit. “It seems I wasn’t meant to be fatally wounded, only isolated from my men and rounded up. Apparently Morgana looks forward to torturing me herself.”

Merlin bristled with rage and clutched the waterskin tightly in his trembling hands. The thought of Arthur tied up and at Morgana’s mercy—at anyone’s mercy—was enough to make Merlin see red. And here Merlin was sat utterly useless right next to the prince he was usually so adept at saving.

Arthur’s hands pried the waterskin from Merlin’s fingers and continued to methodically unclench the fist Merlin’s other hand had formed. “Don’t, Merlin,” he said. “If you get yourself worked up while you’re still weak, it’ll only make things worse.”

Merlin frowned but had to admit Arthur had a point. He had to save his energy for when they eventually started walking. What _was_ taking so long? The weather? They wanted to make sure the knights gave up searching first?

At that moment, Merlin heard heavy footsteps approaching them. He stared at the entrance, wondering whose face he’d see emerge from the darkness.

It wasn’t Ruadan, but one of the other faceless attackers, clad in leather and iron armour more common to bandits than soldiers of honour. He came in carrying a plate of meat that didn’t look at all appetising or substantial enough for the two of them.

Merlin rolled onto his knees and crawled over, reaching for the plate and sliding it over with as much dignity he could manage. Arthur didn’t move, but when the man turned to leave, he called him back.

“Wait.”

The man turned around in the doorway wordlessly, eyeing Arthur with a raised eyebrow.

“I have a proposition for you,” Arthur said. Merlin took a hesitant bite of meat and watched with curiosity.

The man, however, just laughed. “I have no interest in the Camelot jewels or a meagre piece of land,” he said with a gruff voice.

“Is that not what your reward would be if Morgana succeeded in taking the throne again?” Arthur challenged.

Their captor narrowed his eyes. “I’ve sworn my allegiance to the rightful Queen. Even if I was interested in forfeiting that allegiance I wouldn’t consider it seriously. She’d have me hunted down and killed.”

“If you let us go, you can accompany us back. You’ll have not only your own land but the protection of Camelot as well.”

The man scoffed. “You’ve not seen the punishments that befall traitors. I’ll happily see you rot, thank you.” He turned on his heel to go again.

“Wait!” Arthur stopped him.

“What?”

“At least grace us with more food. I doubt Morgana wants our starved corpses.”

The man grunted and walked out. Merlin slid the plate of meat over but Arthur shook his head.

“You need it more than I do. I’m not that hungry, anyways.”

“Arthur—”

“Eat, Merlin.”

Just then the man came back, tossing a dark cut of meat onto the floor beside Arthur’s legs. “We’ll be leaving soon. If you try anything while we’re transporting you, we have orders to cut the hand off the sorcerer.”

He left not a few seconds after uttering the words that made Merlin’s heart stop. He felt the colour leave his face and couldn’t seem to continue eating.

Arthur shuffled over and forced Merlin’s hand to resume its path to his mouth. “Don’t worry about it, Merlin. I’ll think of something.”

Merlin pushed the cold meat between his lips and managed to make himself chew, but his thoughts had flown off in a thousand different directions. There had to be a way to get the restraints off. If he could just nick the key from whoever had it—

“Here, now drink.”

Arthur’s voice cut through his thoughts and Merlin realised Arthur had been feeding him when his own hands had stopped picking the meat. He parted his lips and let Arthur tilt the waterskin, swallowing when his mouth was too full to take any more. When Arthur lowered it, he even went so far as to wipe Merlin’s chin with his thumb.

Merlin blushed and swatted Arthur’s hand away. “I’m not _that_ weak, you know,” he said.

Arthur’s face turned bright pink and his brow furrowed in irritation. Of course he couldn’t show how much he truly cared for Merlin’s wellbeing. A prince wasn’t supposed to have _feelings_.

“I know that,” he insisted. “You were just staring off into space, thinking who-knows-what, so naturally I had to do it for you.”

“Naturally,” Merlin echoed, grinning.

“Ugh, even when you’re ill you’re intolerable.” Arthur pushed the plate closer to Merlin. “Keep eating.”

“Or what? You’ll force-feed me again?” Merlin countered. “I have to say, I could certainly get used to you serving me for once.”

“Fine. Don’t eat. Starve yourself after I went to all that effort.”

Merlin sighed and went back to his slab of meat. He hoped they’d be moving soon, and not just because he was getting weaker by the second. It’d be easier to think of a plan once he had more options.

Merlin didn’t know how long they were kept in the cave, but it couldn’t have been more than two days considering he was still strong enough to stand on his own. He didn’t exactly have any experience with cutting off his magic and making note of the benchmarks, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t have been much longer before he could do little more than sit up. Who knew how much longer after that before he closed his eyes for good.

When he and Arthur were finally led out of the cave, strung along like slaves to be sold at auction, the first thing he did was take a deep breath of fresh air. It was a blessedly cloudy day, easy on his eyes, and it was as if he’d inhaled the sky. He felt the wind in his lungs and wished his feet were bare so he could dig his toes in the earth.

A tug on the chains he and Arthur were bound in made the length go taut and yanked him a few steps forward. “Come along,” one of their stern-faced captors barked.

Arthur was behind Merlin, and Merlin could feel Arthur’s eyes acutely on the back of his neck as they trudged onward. Every footstep that made the leaves rustle and every metallic clank of the chains made Merlin feel heavy with guilt. He couldn’t help but feel like the position they were caught in was his fault, his failure to protect Arthur. He felt miserable and weak.

A drop of water fell on his cheek. Merlin looked up.

The swaying foliage was a muted green in the dreary light of the day, but Merlin was looking past that, to the grey clouds above. A little further ahead they darkened and became a larger mass of rain clouds.

_Water!_

One drop on his skin turned into two, then three, then four, and after a few more steps, it was raining. Merlin exhaled a short laugh of disbelief at his luck as the man in front of him groaned.

It wasn’t much, but it helped. The fresh air, the rain—nature was giving him the little push he needed, and he’d be a fool to waste its efforts. His magic was still out of reach, but he could draw what little power there was to channel it into strength. He felt the slightest bit reinvigorated, felt the burden of his weight lessen as he started looking around with sharp eyes.

Besides the man in front of him, there was one man behind Arthur. There were also men on either side of them, both on horses. Ruadan, also on horseback, lead them all. Five in total, all but Ruadan clad in the iron armour of ordinary bandits, who was in the dark cloak Merlin remembered from the forest. Merlin couldn’t run left, right, forward, or backward, and even if he could, the length of the chain kept him from running too far.

He was beginning to lose hope after it’d been raining long enough for the path to turn into mud. They’d been walking for what felt like the whole morning (even though the light was so grey that it was hard to mark time) and the rain had stopped feeling like a gift as soon as the droplets turned fat and heavy, pouring incessantly down on them. His stomach growled miserably.

Someone else must have been hungry, because the man on horseback to Merlin’s left grumbled, “Let’s stop and eat.” It was the same man Arthur had tried to bargain with before and who had given them more meat.

There was no response except Ruadan slowly looking over his shoulder and pinning the man with a glare.

“Ruadan,” the man on Merlin’s right ventured.

“There’s no time!” Ruadan snapped.

They dropped into silence until the man in the rear started speaking in a quiet voice so Ruadan wouldn’t hear. “Only a few of their knights made it, but that’s a few too many,” he explained to the others. His voice was gruff and low, and sent chills down Merlin’s spine. “Fled to Camelot for more men, he expects. They’ll be in even more of a hurry with the king weak and their only leader gone. Out searching like hounds.”

“We should’ve killed them already,” the horseman on the right complained. Merlin tensed.

“You think Ruadan doesn’t agree? It’s not just time that’s got him on edge. Wishes he could’ve had the honour himself. The prince and his pretty pet spell-slinger.”

Merlin heard a change in the rhythmic clank of chains, then the shuffle of bodies. He whipped his head around just in time to see Arthur elbowing the man in the chest and looking annoyed.

“Get your hands off me!” Arthur growled. The man shoved him forward, knocking him into Merlin, who nearly fell over.

Ruadan was alerted by the commotion, and his voice rang out over the sudden exchange of grunts and blows between Arthur and the captor at the rear. “Enough!”

Merlin pulled Arthur back and the other man stood innocently, only the savage look in his eyes giving him away.

Ruadan looked down at him hatefully, scorn in every line of his face. “As long as I’m commanding this group, you act like men, not like the wayward bandits you were. This is the prince of Camelot as your prisoner, and though to you he may be just another spoilt royal, he’s of great importance to Morgana. There will be other times to have your way with nobles when we take back the kingdom. Lords and ladies of the court you can string up and do with as you please. Until then, you follow my orders and you don’t act out of line. We have one job, and it’s to see them to the Queen alive. Is that understood, Jarin?”

Arthur was staring unblinkingly at the man named Jarin, who stared right back at him as he nodded. Merlin’s heart was in his throat and he wanted to punch that dirty-looking Jarin in the face himself, but the feeling of cold iron shackles chafing against his raw wrists held him back.

“Good,” Ruadan said. “Come, let’s move on.”

The rain didn’t let up until later in the day, and even then it kept on at a steady drizzle. Merlin was used to being on his feet all day, running from one side of the castle to another, up and down stairs, through the town on errands for Gaius. Even without food he probably would have been alright to travel so far any other time.

This was not any other time. His state was worsening, and he could still find no way out of the situation.

“There’s a river not far ahead,” Ruadan said after one look around and another look up at the sun. “We’ll rest a few moments there to eat. But only a few moments.”

“Thank the gods,” the man on Merlin’s right sighed. “I have to piss, and this rain isn’t helping.”

Where Merlin’s mind had been slowing and his feet dragging before, he found another small surge of energy at the mention of a river. He licked his chapped lips and swallowed the saliva in his mouth, too eager to be near water again. His already aching body ached even more, and for a few minutes there was only one thought in his head.

_Water water water water water water_

He had to think of something. He’d caught a glimpse of the key to their restraints on Jarin’s belt during his and Arthur’s scuffle—at least he hoped it was the key to their restraints, since it was a lonely key on a large ring and had no other apparent use—but as of yet no way to get it. If they got close enough to the river, maybe…

Merlin waited until they neared the river to even think about telling Arthur his plan. The river wasn’t beautiful like it was in the sun; it was restless and dark and largely matched Merlin’s mood. Still, he wanted to run and throw himself into it, to be out of the upper world and beneath the waves where everything was so much more simple. He clenched his fists and turned his attention to watching the movements of the men.

“Don’t try to do anything stupid,” Arthur whispered. Merlin kept scanning the area.

Ruadan was tearing into a chunk of bread as he sat against a tree on the riverbank. The two men who’d been on horseback beside them were taking their horses toward the water, one of whom quickly handed the reins off to the other and hurried to go relieve himself. That left Merlin and Arthur with only Jarin holding one end of the chain and the man in front holding the other.

Merlin leaned forward and cleared his throat before speaking to the silent man in front of him. “Can we get some water as well?” he asked.

The man sighed and turned around. He was sturdily-built, with a thick neck and, well, thick everything. His bored eyes looked past Merlin, presumably to his fellow captor. Merlin followed his gaze and looked at Jarin, who was scowling.

“If it were up to me, they’d get nothing,” Jarin said. “Ask _him_.” He nodded toward Ruadan on the bank.

The man dropped his end of the chain and started walking. Merlin stopped breathing and forced himself to remain still. _Not yet_. Jarin called the man back.

“Hey, Ulric! Hey, idiot!”

Ulric stopped and turned around. Big, but stupid, Merlin noted. No wonder he didn’t talk much.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Jarin sneered.

Ulric heaved a sigh and walked back. Merlin swallowed again (the saliva still wasn’t enough to quench his thirst) and felt his hopes dwindle a little. The one thing he had left to hold onto was the fact that bigger, heavier things sank the fastest.

They were lead over to Ruadan, where he was now washing down his bread with long gulps of water from his waterskin. Merlin watched the man’s throat work with envy, then stared longingly at the river that wasn’t even a full leap away. He had to time this right or he was sure to die sooner rather than later.

 _It’s going to ruin my boots_ , he thought forlornly.

He waited until Ulric was speaking to Ruadan. They were standing horizontally now, with Arthur on Merlin’s left. Ulric’s grip on the chain was relaxed, and with any luck, Jarin’s would be, too. Merlin used what little time he had to prepare Arthur.

“Want to see who can hold their breath the longest?” he whispered. He kept his gaze forward, watching Ulric get down on his knees to fill a waterskin with his free hand. It was now or never.

“What?” Arthur hissed back. “Merlin—”

“Run when I run.”

“Merlin, don’t. You’re gonna kill us both.”

Merlin cracked his toes in his boots and hoped he didn’t slip in the mud. He needed a running start and a jump, something to get them far enough away that it wouldn’t be easy to climb back out.

“Just trust me.” He hoped Arthur did. He hoped Arthur could trust the man who’d been lying to him since the day they met.

He ran.

“Stop them!” Jarin yelled.

It was too late. With startled eyes Ulric looked up from filling the waterskin, and instinct must have told him to reach for his sword when being yelled at to stop someone. He let go of the chain and Merlin hoped the tone of distress in Jarin’s voice was from his sudden loss of control as well.

He didn’t know how far back Arthur was behind him until he hit the water and started sinking. The furious shouting of their kidnappers became muted and he could hardly see. He spun around, nearly getting his legs tangled in their chains, and found the whites of Arthur’s wide eyes in the underwater darkness. There was first one splash then another behind where Arthur was frantically treading water.

“Stay above the water whenever you can,” Merlin told him, carefully shaping his mouth to make the words around the escaping air bubbles. He didn’t have time to say more, not when Ulric and Jarin were swimming toward them, apparently having thrown off what parts of their armour they could before jumping in to pursue them.

Merlin called on every last bit of strength he had. He pointed for Arthur to go up, then propelled himself forward as much as the chain connecting him to Arthur would allow.

It was Jarin he met first, the smaller man being the faster swimmer. Merlin managed to grab hold of his arm and pull him down. He was wary of just how far he pulled him down, not wanting to drag Arthur along with him.

Flailing and fighting desperately to reach the surface again, Jarin got in a couple successful kicks to Merlin’s head. Merlin’s vision went black and starry a few seconds while Jarin started swimming upward.

Time was still of the essence, especially with Ulric now upon them. Merlin took a few deep breaths in with his gills and tried to gather his wits. Arthur could deal with Ulric for a little while maybe, and it helped that he wasn’t nearly as weak as Merlin, but he still had the disadvantage of needing air. It wouldn’t be until they’d defeated these two and were back on land that Arthur would be of the most use.

It was Merlin’s turn for now.

He hated the way his boots and restraints limited his movements, but this was more than just his life he was fighting for. This was for Arthur, for Camelot, for the future of Albion. He pushed himself onward, upward, and grabbed hold of Jarin’s ankle.

“Arggh!” Jarin screamed under the water, letting out a torrent of air bubbles. That was his mistake.

Hand over hand, Merlin climbed his way up Jarin’s leg, dodging the man’s frenzied, uncoordinated attacks and steeling himself against those that landed. He got a hold of his leather belt just as the movements became slower and more futile. Jarin was all out of air.

The hardest part was getting the key’s ring off the belt, but once it was done, Merlin let Jarin’s body sink and went straight to freeing himself of the wretched cold iron shackles. He glanced up at the struggle between Arthur and Ulric and unlocked his restraints as fast as he could.

Then he went for Ulric.

Magic flared under Merlin’s skin, filling him from his toes to his fingertips to every strand of hair on his head. He felt like a flame that had been snuffed out allowed to burn bright again. And like a flame, he lashed out wildly, sending a tendril of magic shooting out to grab Ulric and pull him down, down, down.

With Ulric being steadily brought to the bottom of the river to drown, Merlin swam back up toward Arthur and worked on freeing him as well. He had the shackles off in only a moment, and the chains that had been their bane before sank to the riverbed along with Ulric now.

Finally, Merlin broke the surface of the water.

“Think you can take care of the other two?” he asked.

Arthur was wheezing, and looked more like a soaked, pitiful kitten than Merlin had ever seen him, but there was still strength in him. He nodded. “What about you? You’re still weak.”

“I told Ruadan I’d kill him and that’s what I plan to do. Go on, Arthur.”

“Merlin—”

“I feel better with the shackles off. Go!”

Arthur frowned but started for the riverbank. Ruadan was shouting and gesturing for the two horsemen to do something, but he wouldn’t be for long.

Merlin remembered how powerful the man had been in the forest the night of their capture. There was no way Arthur could take him on, even without the other two threats distracting him. Ruadan was Merlin’s kill, and now Merlin had an advantage.

Merlin rose until he was standing on the water’s surface. Raising an arm, he lashed out again—a jet of water sprang out of the river, arching high above him and making straight for Ruadan on the bank. Like the tendril of magic that had been Ulric’s end, Merlin wrapped the magic stream around Ruadan’s middle and pulled him in.

 

Merlin kept him there, held in his water’s grip, for just long enough to look him in the eyes. Ruadan’s face changed from belligerent hatred to pleading in less than five seconds.

“Please,” he gasped. “I have a daughter. My… my beautiful Sefa.”

“For her sake I hope you haven’t taught her to be anything like you,” Merlin said. Before Ruadan could draw another breath, he dropped his arm and forced Ruadan beneath the waves. He kept him held tight in his grip until he sensed the man had stopped struggling.

The clang of metal up ahead reminded Merlin of Arthur. He focused his attention back on the battle on land and used the last of his energy to run toward it. Arthur was looking more tired by the second, and Merlin hoped he himself could keep upright for just a bit longer.

“Merlin,” Arthur growled when Merlin sent one of the attackers into a tree with the force of his magic. “I can—handle this—don’t—exert yourself,” he gritted out between sword strikes.

“I told you I feel better,” Merlin said. Not two seconds later, his vision swam again and he had to put his hand out and lean against a tree to keep from collapsing. Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion were finally beating him.

“ _Mer_ lin!”

Merlin saw red in the distance. At first he thought something might be wrong with him, but he blinked, shook his head, and squinted. There really was something red flitting between the muted forest colours, coming straight toward them.

He tried to take a step forward and fell to his knees, nothing but mud and grass now his entire view. Head down and hands in the mud, Merlin groaned, more because he hated being suddenly useless than anything.

The clang of metal stopped at the same time Merlin heard the death gurgle of Arthur’s opponent. He raised his eyes and once again saw the man Arthur had tried to bargain with, life leaving his twitching body.

“Merlin.”

Merlin started at Arthur’s unexpected touch.

“Knights are coming. Come on.” He crouched down, put Merlin’s arm over his shoulders, and helped him up.

Merlin was fighting fatigue and the heaviness of his eyelids, but he had to get the words out. “Arthur,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Merlin?”

“When you tell them everything… When you explain what happened… I just want you to know, you can tell them about me. I… guess it doesn’t matter now.”

Arthur sighed. Merlin could hear horse hooves getting closer.

“I understand, Merlin.”

“Take me straight to Gaius,” Merlin said. “Don’t try to treat me with anything yourself. Don’t change my clothes. It’s just exhaustion, I just need to sleep it off.”

“We’re going to have a long talk when you’re up to it, don’t think we aren’t.”

“I know, I know.” Merlin finally let his eyes close with a sigh and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Even though they were both dripping wet, he could feel Arthur’s heat under the soggy clothing. “One more thing. Don’t let go of me until we reach Camelot.”

“Is that important to your health as well?”

Merlin chuckled. “No, that’s just for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin was floating. The day was bright and peaceful, and the sun ray’s were pleasant on his skin as his body drifted on the waves.

He’d never been swimming naked before. His mother always forbid it.

That was how he knew it was a dream. If he ever had reason to finally disobey his mother’s rules, it would be because Arthur knew and Arthur was there with him. Arthur was not with him in the dream.

Little by little, the waves hardened into something stiff, until Merlin was blinking his eyes open and the shifting walls of his room settled down. He rubbed his eyes and groaned.

“Merlin?” There was Gaius’s voice, and not long after, Gaius opening the door to look in. He answered Merlin’s first question before Merlin could even ask it. “You’ve been sleeping since you returned two days ago. Nearly three days now the sun’s going down.”

Merlin swallowed as he propped himself up on his elbows. Knowing what he needed, Gaius crossed the room, a goblet of water already in hand.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked after a long drink.

“Recovered mostly during the journey back, he says. It was mostly hunger that was ailing him, and he cured the last of it as soon as he saw you safely to me. And before you ask, no, he did not get a glimpse of your gills.”

Merlin exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Gaius. I _will_ tell him—”

“He ordered that I inform him immediately of your waking,” Gaius said, giving Merlin a raised brow.

Merlin pouted up at him. “So there’s no chance of a bath?”

“Merlin.”

“Gaius, please. I can talk to him in the morning. Water always makes me feel better, you know that!”

“Gaius!” Arthur’s voice. Merlin’s heart skipped. He could hear Arthur’s footsteps entering the physician’s chambers and hastily checked to make sure his chest was covered. He was wearing a loose grey tunic (and no trousers), but he pulled the blanket up a bit anyway.

Gaius gave Merlin a stern look and left the goblet of water on the nearby table. He turned to go greet Arthur in the main room.

“Your Highness,” Gaius said. “Remarkable timing; Merlin’s just woke up.”

_Curse you, Gaius._

“Ah, excellent. He’s well enough to sit up and speak?” Despite Gaius not having yet given an answer, Arthur’s voice had gotten closer. Merlin sighed and pushed himself further up on his hands to lean against his headboard.

“I believe so, sire,” Gaius replied.

Arthur looked well. Merlin had woken a few times during the journey back, but not entirely. He recalled flashes of things—morsels of meat being put between his lips for him to eat, water being slowly poured into his mouth, the sound of hooves, the bouncing gait of a horse. Mostly he remembered warmth as Arthur did as Merlin asked and didn’t let him go.

Arthur himself Merlin did not remember. The last time Merlin had seen him, he’d been drenched and tired after having been held prisoner in a cave for days, then fighting off their captors. Now he looked his old princely self again, blond hair brushed and golden, skin healthy. He held himself as he always did when he was in the citadel walls, tall and self-important.

“Sire,” Merlin said after if felt like they’d stared at each other for far too many heart beats.

Arthur took the chair from the corner of Merlin’s room and set it beside the bed. He sat in it wordlessly and picked up the goblet from the table to hand to Merlin. Merlin drank.

“There’s a lot we should talk about,” Arthur said, “but most of it can wait until you’ve had something to eat. Come to my chambers when you’re able and I’ll send for whatever you want.”

“Yes, sire. Thank you.”

“It’s I who should be thanking you, Merlin. I don’t know how, but you saved us.”

Merlin stared at the ripples in the water in his cup and said nothing.

“I wanted you to know that your secret is safe with the knights. I told those closest to me and they were surprised, but understanding.”

“And you?”

“Merlin.” Merlin dared to look up. Arthur’s face was carefully blank, but Merlin saw the fondness in his eyes. “I thought you would know better than to have to ask.”

Merlin took a drink to hide his smile.

“I want you to feel that you can tell me anything,” Arthur continued. “The same way that I…” He looked away and cleared his throat, finishing the rest in a mumble. “The same way that I feel I can tell you anything.”

Under any other circumstances, Merlin would have grinned and made fun of him. A small smile passed his lips now, but he wasn’t particularly in the joking mood.

Merlin sighed. “I’m Emrys,” he said, studying the water in his cup again. When there was no immediate response, he looked back up at Arthur. He seemed to be staring intently at the jut of Merlin’s knee beneath the blanket.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Arthur said at last, voice flat and emotionless. He stood up and put the chair back, and only eased Merlin’s racing heart when he turned back to him and their eyes met. “We’ll talk more once you’ve eaten, Merlin. Come to me as soon as you can.”

“Is it alright if it’s a bit later?” Merlin asked as Arthur reached for the door. Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Only, I was going to have a bath. Wash the dirt of the road off, you know?”

“I’ll have it prepared in my chambers.”

“No, no, that’s—I couldn’t. I’m only a servant and—”

“You just told me you’re Emrys,” Arthur countered with a hitched brow.

Merlin skipped reasoning and went for pleading. “Arthur, please. I’d just prefer it if—”

“Merlin.”

If the tone of Arthur’s voice hadn’t silenced him, the dark look he was shooting him would have. Merlin’s body tensed up and froze as Arthur crossed the small room in two long strides. Arthur held Merlin’s gaze, determination in his eyes, and bent low enough that his face was level with Merlin’s.

He took Merlin’s face in his sword-roughened hands and kissed him.

_I’m being kissed, Arthur’s kissing me, I’m being kissed, and by the bloody prince of Camelot, he’s FUCKING KISSING ME!_

It took Merlin two seconds to get himself together and kiss back, and by then Arthur was pulling away. Merlin blinked at the loss of contact, and couldn’t help but bring a hand to his mouth, touching his lips.

“Indulge me,” Arthur said. He left Merlin speechless.

It was only when Gaius came in a bit later to check how everything went that Merlin remembered how to move.

“What happened?” Gaius asked.

Merlin could hardly believe what he was about to say, and couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face when he said it. “I just had my first kiss.”

Merlin was in no way disillusioned. He might have been for a few minutes, head still spinning from the euphoria of being kissed by Prince Arthur, but then reality came crashing down and he remembered he was meant to take his shirt off in front of said Prince Arthur. His heart was in his throat as he knocked on Arthur’s door.

“Enter.”

Merlin walked in and closed the door behind him. Arthur was poking a log in the fire and it was probably an aftereffect of the kiss that made Merlin think he’d never looked so beautiful.

He cleared his throat and took a few steps toward the table. Food was already laid out, and the sight and smell of it made his mouth water.

Arthur turned from the fire and put the poker off to the side. He walked to his seat at the table and gestured for Merlin to sit at the place beside him where a plate was already waiting. Merlin steeled himself for the conversation to come and took a seat.

“So. Emrys.”

Merlin refused to lower his eyes. Now was the time for strength. “Well, since we’re being formal… Prince Arthur.”

Arthur cracked a smile and picked up his fork to begin eating. “Tell me everything you’ve done while we eat.”

Merlin picked up his fork as well.

And told him every thing but one.

Merlin saved the dragon for last, and it was while Arthur was pursing his lips at the revelation that Balinor was Merlin’s father that he sighed and sat back, rubbing his full stomach. He didn’t think he could take even a sip of water, he was so stuffed.

“Feeling better?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, thank you. And don’t worry so much about Balinor. I suppose the same way you feel about your mother is the same way I am about him. It’s a bit like an old wound that’s scabbed over. I just don’t pick at it and eventually the only thing left will be a bit of discolouration.”

“I see working with Gaius has certainly had its effect,” Arthur mused as he took a sip of water. “Well, if you’re finished, I’ll call for a servant.” He began to stand up, but Merlin beat him to it.

“Don’t be stupid, you have a servant right here. I can—”

“Sit, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed and sat. Arthur was using that voice that left no room for argument. Sometimes it sounded so much like Uther it made his skin crawl.

“We’re not through speaking.”

Arthur went to the door and fetched a maid. Merlin slipped out of his chair while Arthur was occupied and went to stand by the window. Being so full and sated had made him warm, and he wanted some air while he disobeyed a command.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” Arthur complained behind him.

Merlin looked away from the window, glad to see Arthur wasn’t too displeased. It was mostly for show, and they both knew it. Merlin loved that they both knew it. He didn’t so much love this next part, the part where Arthur would see him undress and be disgusted by his freakish body.

“Not the stocks, I hope,” Merlin said. “That wouldn’t be entirely fair given my recent recovery, would it?”

“I requested a bath.”

Merlin sighed.

“I meant it, Merlin. We aren’t through speaking.”

“Okay.”

“There’s something I want you to know. Now that you’ve told me almost everything.”

Merlin fought the urge to wipe his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers. He had a feeling this had been coming.

“Is this about the kiss?” he dared to ask.

Arthur nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, he took one of Merlin’s hands in his own. “It is.”

“Right then.”

“I’m trying not to be weird about it, Merlin, but you’re a servant and you’re…you. This isn’t exactly like courting a noblewoman. I mean, I’ve slept with plenty of servants before but I’ve never exactly had feelings for one. And you know I don’t do awkwardness well.”

After a brief pang of jealousy at the mention of other servants, Merlin laughed, mostly at the thought of Arthur courting him like a noblewoman, and it was almost terrible how easy things were. This was how things should be, how Merlin wanted things to be without the fear of what would happen once they were naked together. It hurt knowing he’d come so close only for it to be snatched away.

“I’ve always been attracted to you, Merlin,” Arthur confessed. “The day we met, my first thought was, ‘Easy on the eyes, but a bit of an idiot.’” Merlin laughed a bit louder and longer this time. “And then you were just so _loyal_ to me. I’ve done nothing to deserve your blind faith, and yet there you always were, and still are. I’ve never been good with my manservants. Ask Guinevere, she’ll tell you. I’ve sacked all of them or treated them so badly that they fled the city.”

“I’m surprised, really.”

“And…and then in _battle_.” Arthur’s face looked a little flushed all of a sudden. “Trust me, I don’t like to see you in danger, but when you get that determined look on your face—”

“I know. It’s the same for me when I see you fight. I understand,” Merlin said, chuckling.

“This last time though, that was…” Arthur shook his head, at a loss for words. “You won’t hear me say this often, Merlin, so cherish it.”

“Wait, let me mark the time and day.”

“You were amazing. Your magic and… I really could see no way out of it. I thought we’d have to get all the way to Morgana and try to talk sense into her, and that _maybe_ the best we could hope for was the knights to catch up with us in time. But your plan—and I still don’t know what exactly you did—It worked brilliantly. The way you took out Ruadan, it was so…so…”

“Attractive?”

“ _Yes_.” Arthur crowded him against the window, and Merlin’s nose was suddenly filled with the scent of chicken still on Arthur’s breath. “I couldn’t exactly think about it at the time, but afterward…” He bent over Merlin’s neck and brought their bodies close as he inhaled deeply. Merlin’s knees went weak. “I’ve never been so aroused in my life.” It was almost a growl, and went straight to Merlin’s cock.

A knock on the door made him jump. Arthur took an annoyed step back and bid them enter when he was a respectable distance away.

“Where did you want the tub, Your Highness?” one of the maids asked.

“In front of the changing screen will do perfectly.”

They carried the tub over and Merlin tried not to let his imagination get carried away (it was currently fantasising about Arthur simply pulling down his trousers, spinning him around, and taking him against the nearby wall, no shirt removal necessary). He slipped past Arthur and hurried to help the maids put the buckets of water over the fire. He’d take them off and heat them with magic as soon as they left.

“Merlin can fill the tub when they’ve finished heating,” Arthur said, waving them away. “That will be all.”

They left too soon. Merlin wasn’t ready, but then, he never would be. He’d _had_ to tell Gaius, the only person besides Will and his mother who knew, but Gaius was old and a physician and it was different. Arthur was Arthur.

Arthur came over to help Merlin pour the water in the tub as soon as the maids closed the door. He probably knew what Merlin planned to do without it having to be spelled out for him, and aided Merlin wordlessly.

When they finished, Merlin stood looking down at the tub. He knew he’d have to move eventually, but these were the last few moments he had before Arthur never looked at him the same way again. He wanted to prolong it as much as he could.

Arthur took a step toward him, hands reaching for his scarf. “As many times as you’ve undressed me, surely you know how to—”

“Don’t,” Merlin said, perhaps a bit harsher than he’d meant to. Arthur’s face looked hurt before he schooled his features. “Sorry. I… I can do it.” Merlin reached behind his neck and began untying his scarf.

“Merlin, you don’t have to. I’m still not the kind of prince who would order you to—”

“You told me to indulge you—”

“Even so. If you want to back out, I won’t hold it against you.”

Merlin removed his neckerchief, folded it, and set it in a chair. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back. Arthur might have been saying he could back out, but Merlin knew he would never hold the same respect for him if he did. At least this way Arthur wouldn’t be able to call Merlin a coward.

 _Boots,_ he thought. _Boots next. Then trousers. Then smalls. Then…._

He bent down to take off his boots. “You’ve been more understanding than I deserve already, Arthur. I’ve told you all my secrets save this and even though I don’t want you to _know_ , I want you to know.”

“If you’re ready,” Arthur said.

Merlin tossed first one boot then another toward the chair. “You might need to be more ready than me,” he muttered.

Taking off his trousers was easy. Even taking off his smalls and letting Arthur see his cock for the first time was relatively easy in comparison. He took extra care folding everything before setting them in the chair as well.

Merlin’s hands were shaking when he raised them to his shirt. He could feel Arthur’s gaze on him, unforgivingly hungry and intent. He stalled for the last time by taking a moment to magically heat the water.

It was while Arthur was distracted by the magic that Merlin finally pulled his shirt over his head.

There. He was naked, exposed, so very very exposed, and he felt it.

 

Five seconds of silence passed, during which Merlin looked at the floor. Five seconds was torture enough. He got into the tub without waiting for Arthur to speak.

Arthur’s footsteps around the tub were slow, which Merlin thought just made it worse. He sat still as a statue, wishing he’d had the foresight to grab the soap before he got in.

“Are those…” Arthur began. Merlin closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Arthur’s face. “What are those?”

“What do they look like?” Merlin breathed through his gills, felt them flare as they pulled in air from the water, and was glad his eyes were still closed. The action itself felt refreshing, though. He tried to relax and kept doing it.

“It _looks_ like you cheated when we had a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest!”

Merlin opened one eye. “What.”

“It also certainly explains why your plan to jump in the river and drown—”

“Wait, what?” Merlin let the other eye open, the better to gape at Arthur with.

“What, what?”

“Stop talking. Back up. I have _gills_ on my torso and your first thought is that I cheated at a game?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Arthur pulled a chair from the table and sat in it. “Well, the obvious first thought was ‘why the hell do you have gills,’ but after that, yes, I’m rather upset that I lost due to your apparently devious ways.”

“Okay. Um, third thought, then?”

“No wonder you like swimming so much, you’re part bloody fish.”

Merlin surprised himself by laughing. Will had said much the same thing when he’d found out. It didn’t seem to be said as an insult or in a mean way. It was a genuine joke, and, well, Merlin had thought pretty much the same himself more than once.

Still chuckling, he asked, “How about the fourth thought?”

Arthur looked him up and down sitting in the tub, and _now_ Merlin was aware of his cock. He only just kept himself from moving his hands to cover up.

“You’re still not ugly.”

Merlin blinked. “Really?”

Arthur stood, grabbed the soap, and handed it to Merlin. Then he moved his chair around the tub until he was sitting directly behind him. He picked up a cloth, soaked it in the water, and—Merlin could hardly believe it—started washing Merlin’s shoulders.

His cock took a definite interest, even though his mind told him Arthur wouldn’t take his virginity so soon after he’d recovered.

“Have you ever heard stories about mermaids, Merlin?” Arthur asked far too conversationally.

“I’ve heard that there are stories, though I can’t say I’ve ever heard them.”

“Good enough. How about stories that tell of sea nymphs? Or morgens? Or water spirits?”

“Er, again, not much.”

“The point is, in all those stories, the creatures are beautiful. Sure, most of the time they end up drowning people, but they’re alluring.”

“Too bad I’m not alluring.”

“Oh, but you are,” Arthur purred in Merlin’s ear. Merlin shuddered. “And I think you’ve been so focused on how your differences make you odd that you’ve not once thought that it could make you something special.”

“Special?”

“Yes, Merlin.” Arthur’s free hand lowered to Merlin’s chest, and Merlin shuddered as the tip of a finger traced the edge of one of his gills. “Believe it or not, morgenboy, but this makes me want you more.”

If it was anyone else, Merlin probably would’ve been a little offended. He didn’t much fancy being treated like a prize (how many men could say they fucked a creature right out of legend?), nor did he like the thought of Arthur only wanting him more because his abnormality made him something one might collect and show off for a price.

But Merlin liked Arthur. He _really_ liked Arthur. He would die for him, and had already resolved to spend his life serving him. Perhaps most importantly, Arthur had confessed his feelings before he even knew about the gills, so Merlin didn’t think for a second that Arthur thought of him as nothing but a prized possession. Maybe the fact that he was “special” was just an added bonus, an extra layer of allure, as Arthur called it.

Which was more than Merlin would’ve ever thought to hope for.

“I want you too,” Merlin breathed. His gills were opening and closing more quickly as his heart beat faster and his body needed more air. Gods, they were practically flapping. _That_ was a little embarrassing.

Arthur chuckled. “I see that.”

Merlin looked down. His heart wasn’t the only thing getting excited.

“I don’t want you doing too much tonight, so we’ll have to take things a bit slow.”

Merlin exhaled shakily as Arthur kissed up his throat and sucked his earlobe. “Slow is more than fine,” he said.

“Good. All finished getting the dirt of the road off you?”

Merlin stood up so fast that he got a little dizzy, and probably splashed more than a little water on Arthur. Suddenly he didn’t need to spend quite as much time in the bath as he originally thought.

Turning around to face Arthur, Merlin felt like his cock looked a bit obscene pointing straight ahead at the prince, but maybe that was just because he was the only one nude. Arthur smiled and got to his feet, pulling his shirt over his head.

Fuck, Merlin was going to get to touch all of that skin in all the ways he’d always desperately wanted to. The thought alone was enough to make his dick throb, which didn’t exactly go unnoticed by Arthur.

“Dry off before you jump into bed and get everything wet,” Arthur said. He handed Merlin a drying cloth and Merlin stepped out of the tub.

Unlike Merlin, Arthur let his clothes drop to the floor as he discarded them, in true royal fashion. He went to lie on the bed while Merlin tried not to dry off too quickly.

He was lying leisurely back on the pillows, one hand behind his head and the other lazily stroking his cock when Merlin walked to the side of the bed. Merlin put a knee tentatively down but then stopped before putting all his weight on it, unsure what to do.

Arthur waved him over. “Come here.”

Merlin crawled over and lay down next to him. He felt so stupid and inexperienced, and knew he was blushing about it.

Running a hand up Merlin’s chest, Arthur leaned over him and kissed him. Merlin’s hands wanted to touch, but he wasn’t sure where or how. Why was everything _but_ this so easy between them?

“Don’t think about it,” Arthur said in a whisper. “Just let it happen. I’ll like it, whatever you do to me.”

“Guess that means I finally get to touch that arse of yours,” Merlin said boldly.

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and suddenly Merlin had a handful of very warm, very firm arse cheek. Following Arthur’s advice, he didn’t think too much about it before squeezing, and the pleased sound in Arthur’s throat was definitely a shot of confidence Merlin needed.

“You can do more than touch it,” Arthur purred. “But not tonight.”

Merlin whimpered before he could think to stop it. He hated feeling this way, like a fumbling idiot. He wished he had the same self-assurance as Arthur in matters like this and knew how to be all… sexy.

He could try, though. Arthur had said not to make things weird and Merlin agreed. Why should things be weird between them now? It was still them, they were just naked. And kissing. And touching.

And oh gods, no one had ever touched Merlin _there_.

He keened at the feeling of Arthur’s fingers brushing tantalisingly over and around his hole. He needily lifted his hips and clutched Arthur’s arms as Arthur teased him with touches to his arse, cock, and balls.

“Shh,” Arthur insisted, moving his hand to press firmly down on Merlin’s chest until he was flat on the bed again. “You’re getting too worked up.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Merlin breathed.

A finger trailed down the ridges of the gills on his right side. Merlin shuddered and Arthur’s lashes swept up as he met Merlin’s eyes.

“What’s it like inside? What does it feel like when you touch it?”

Merlin laughed. “Not exactly something you want to know at the moment. It doesn’t feel good, that’s the important thing. It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel good.”

Arthur quirked a brow. “Sorry, I’m just curious. Is it disgusting and slimy or something?”

“More or less. You know when you put your finger up your nose, and you reach that point where you can’t go any further? It’s practically the same. It’s just skin under the flap until you reach something that feels a bit like that mucusy thing—”

“You’re right, better not to talk about it. The outside is alright, though?”

“The outside is perfectly clean. You just saw me bathe.”

Arthur spread his hand across the three slits in Merlin’s right side. “And it doesn’t restrict your breathing or anything if I do this?”

Merlin shook his head. “My lungs are there so the flaring still happens when they expand and contract, but they only function when I’m underwater. You won’t suffocate me or anything by covering them. Can we stop talking about this now?” He hooked a leg around Arthur’s and brought their bodies closer. “Pointless interruption,” he added in a mumble.

“Not pointless,” Arthur said, pressing another kiss to Merlin’s side. “Your body’s different from others. I have to know how to handle it.”

“Besides the gills, it works just like any other body, I assure you.”

Merlin reached for Arthur’s cock where it was pressing against his thigh and wrapped a firm hand around it. Arthur grunted and jerked his hips forward into the channel of Merlin’s fingers. It seemed the interruption hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. The silence before had made things a little intense and intimidating, but Merlin felt much less nervous now.

Arthur untangled their legs and moved until he was lightly straddling Merlin. He didn’t tear his eyes from Merlin for a second, letting Merlin rise to the challenge of holding his gaze. Merlin didn’t back down, and only darted a glance to where he was still stroking Arthur’s cock to show Arthur he had perfect control over where his eyes went.

He’d dreamt of seeing Arthur this way plenty of times, and loved the reality just as much as he knew he would if he ever got the chance to experience it. That was _his_ hand reducing the prince of Camelot to a quivering, panting mess. It was _his_ odd body that was keeping Arthur’s dick hard and throbbing.

Arthur’s face was gorgeously slack and vulnerable, for once his expression not composed and blank. His brows rose in a slant with the height of his pleasure and there was a flush high on his cheeks. A light sheen of sweat on his upper lip gave away the effort it took for him to keep his arms locked, holding himself up. With Merlin’s free hand, he slowly caressed Arthur wherever he could reach, still a bit in shock that he was allowed all this.

Arthur slipped his cock out of Merlin’s hand and leaned down to plant kisses on his chest. He kept his eyes on Merlin even when he placed his open mouth over Merlin’s left set of gills and slowly brought his lips together. Merlin had never felt more lucky in his entire life.

By the time Arthur was sucking a kiss into Merlin’s hip bone, Merlin knew where he was going. He knew the next time Arthur’s mouth touched his skin it would be on his cock. He waited as patiently as he could, inhaling slowly and exhaling even slower as Arthur’s lips brushed across the hairy skin at the top of his thigh.

Arthur’s lips stretched over Merlin’s cock was the best thing Merlin had ever seen. The way Arthur’s mouth moulded to his dick and sucked was a sight he would treasure for the rest of his life. He watched himself feed Arthur his length over and over until it was so much that he had to look away.

Arthur’s hands caressed Merlin’s thighs, starting inside, working up and outward, and coming back around again. One settled itself on Merlin’s hip while the other curled around the base of his cock. Arthur tilted his head the slightest bit and changed the way his tongue was involved in things _completely_.

“Oh gods,” Merlin gasped, pulling at his own hair. That twirl of hot tongue around the head of his dick was going to be the bane of his existence from now on. Or at least until he finally got Arthur’s cock inside him.

He was going to come. He was too tense, too tightly wound. Everything was hot and he was going to burst.

“Ah-Arthur—”

Arthur flinched at the first pulse of come, but took it in stride. Merlin threw an arm over his eyes and tried not to feel like an inexperienced idiot again.

A moment after the warmth of Arthur’s mouth left, his arm was gently moved away. Arthur didn’t say a word. He simply kissed him, long and deep. It was while they were kissing that Arthur slipped his leg between Merlin’s and started rutting against him, chasing his own release. He found it when Merlin wrapped a leg around his waist and added friction of his own, fingernails digging desperately into the skin of Arthur’s back. Arthur’s body shuddered as he spurted between them.

Afterwards, Arthur lay dressed for bed, one arm draped across Merlin while he stared down at him, looking his fill because he finally could. Merlin grinned up at him, happy that Arthur was being forward and that they were no longer dancing around each other.

“I want you to know that if it were up to me, you’d stop being a servant tomorrow,” Arthur said seriously, though the patterns his finger was idly tracing over Merlin’s collarbones were anything but serious.

“I understand,” Merlin said. “I didn’t expect anything—”

“Not because of this, you cabbage head.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Because of your magic. Because you’re Emrys.”

“Oh.”

“And maybe a _bit_ because of this as well.”

“I thought so.”

“But in all seriousness,” Arthur continued, “you don’t deserve to be a servant. You might be the bravest man I’ve ever met. You’re loyal, you’re selfless, and you’ve already done so much for the kingdom. You deserve recognition that I can’t give you now, and—”

“I don’t do it for recognition. You know I don’t.”

Arthur sighed and nodded. “I know.”

Merlin smiled and entwined his fingers in Arthur’s. “Just the fact that you know about me now is enough. And the fact that there even is a ‘this.’”

Arthur tightened the clasp of their hands, still looking at Merlin intently. “Don’t ever think that you’re ugly, Merlin. I hate that you did for so long and were afraid to tell me why. I understand why you did it—if there was something different with my body and I thought you’d be revolted at the sight of it, I probably would’ve done the same. But don’t ever think that way again. You’re just the way you were meant to be and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Merlin wanted to throw his arms around Arthur and embrace him. Arthur wasn’t one for feelings or being up front about things that involved displaying emotion, so it had to be important that Arthur made the effort now. But Merlin also wanted to keep holding Arthur’s hands, so he settled for bringing their joined hands to his mouth and kissing Arthur’s knuckles.

“Thank you, Arthur. You’re much less of an arse than you were the day I first met you.”

“Yes, well, I was barely twenty years old, and I like to think I’ve matured quite nicely,” Arthur said in his most princely voice.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Still an arse. Just much less of one,” he said, turning to lie on his side.

Arthur wrapped an arm around him, settling his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin felt like they fit perfectly. Even though after a while it was a little too warm, he didn’t want to move and didn’t plan to. Soon his and Arthur’s breathing slowed as they drifted into sleep.

Merlin awoke to the sound of people moving about in his chambers. Then he opened his eyes and saw that he wasn’t in his chambers at all, but in the prince’s. Flashes of the previous night flitted through his mind, and he smiled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

The commotion had been the maids returning to take away the tub. Arthur, never one for caring who saw him shirtless in the privacy of his own rooms, was half dressed in sleeping trousers and nothing else, looking over documents at his work table while eating an apple.

Merlin, however, hurried to pull the covers over his head and hide in the darkness beneath. He waited until the maids shuffled out to peer from under it again.

The room was clean. There was food on the table and Arthur was staring at him, loudly chewing a bite of his apple.

Merlin threw the covers back and sat up again. He caught the flick of Arthur’s eyes down to his bare chest and back up, but wasn’t entirely surprised. It would take Arthur more than one night to get used to it.

That was fine. Merlin had plans to make use of his new closeness with Arthur to sneak more admiring glances of the royal pectoral muscles anyway.

“I could’ve gotten breakfast,” Merlin said, voice hoarse from sleep. He slid out of bed and padded over to where his clothes still sat folded neatly in the chair by the fire. As nice as it would be to lounge around in one of Arthur’s castoffs all day, he had to get dressed and ready.

“Whose servant are you again, Merlin?” Arthur asked in a sing-songy tone that Merlin hated to hear royals use, and Arthur knew it.

Merlin sighed. “What happened to being less of an arse?”

“Mine, Merlin. You’re my _personal manservant_. Which entails what exactly?”

Merlin glared at him. That was enough. He stalked over to Arthur, who was licking his stupidly delicious lips of apple juice, and said, “You do know I could have you pinned against that wall and unable to move without even blinking an eye, don’t you? Why are you being like this, Arthur?”

Arthur blinked, chewed, swallowed, put the apple down, taking his time answering Merlin. “That’s the point, Merlin. I can’t change your status, not while magic is still outlawed and I’m only Crown Prince, but I can change what tasks you’re required to do.”

Merlin furrowed his brow and took a step back, waiting to hear where Arthur was going.

“As my manservant, you’re to do exactly what I tell you. _But_ , I can tell any number of servants what to do as well. And you, because you’re directly under my command, have a certain level of power over other servants in the castle as well, don’t you?”

“So?”

“So, just because you have to remain a servant while my father is King, does _not_ mean you have to be treated wholly like a servant.”

Merlin smirked and crossed his arms, looking down at Arthur in amusement. “You know, I don’t really _have_ to remain a servant. You could sack me and I could focus more on being Gaius’s apprentice.”

Arthur hitched a brow. “Think you’ve got it all figured out, do you? Have you never played chess?”

“Chess isn’t a game for peasants.”

Arthur cringed, as Merlin knew he would at the words. “My point is, that was the first option I considered. But would you really want someone else dressing me every morning, attending to me in tournaments and on campaigns, serving me at meals…”

Merlin grumbled and admitted, “Not particularly.” Serving Arthur at meals was something Merlin could live without, but leave it to the man destined to be the Once and Future King to get poisoned after Merlin was no longer there. Like hell was Merlin going to take the chance.

Arthur pushed back from the table and stood up. Merlin’s heart stuttered as Arthur closed the distance between them and placed a possessive hand on the small of his back. His gaze passed appreciatively over Merlin’s body from the bottom up, finally stopping at Merlin’s lips, staring at them from under his lashes. A crooked smile making his expression all princely smugness and seduction, he ran a hand up Merlin’s chest, caressing his skin like he hadn’t only just told Merlin he wanted him less than a day ago.

“And if you weren’t my servant, what excuse would I have to keep you in my room all night?”

Damned Arthur. Maybe when all this wasn’t so new, Merlin wouldn’t melt at Arthur’s lips against his or his clear blue eyes. Maybe his resolve would be stronger. For now, Merlin felt his anger dissolve as Arthur’s hand trailed back down his chest and into the borrowed trousers to wrap around his cock, coaxing him to hardness.

A bitten off whimpering noise escaped Merlin’s throat and he jerked his hips forward into the touch.

“I w-want more days off to go swimming while the weather’s still nice,” Merlin said, suddenly breathless.

Arthur slowly sank to his knees, grinning wickedly up at him. Merlin had to brace himself on the desk and steady his legs as Arthur pulled his trousers down and immediately sucked a loud kiss to the side of his erection.

The feeling of lips and tongue around the head made Merlin’s jaw go slack and he let his head fall back as more of his length slid into the blissful cavern of Arthur’s mouth. His own lips a quivering O, he brought a hand to the back of Arthur’s head, sank his fingers into soft blond hair as Arthur began to hungrily suck.

“Don’t you have a, a council meeting?” Merlin asked breathlessly, because the responsible part of his brain hated him. He’d let his eyes close, losing himself to the feeling.

Arthur let him slip out. “Not until later. By the way, after you eat breakfast, you should speak to the knights.”

“Mmm. Got it. Keep going.”

Arthur chuckled and Merlin sighed as he took him in his mouth again.

“And don’t think I’m not getting those d-days off.”

It was sometimes still strange to see the knights on the training field without Arthur, but with Uther’s state Arthur had had a shift in responsibilities. He still trained them when he could—he did, after all, have enough free time to go hunting and swimming with Merlin if he planned effectively—but there was no longer much time left for seriously overseeing the knights when there were matters of coin and harvest to discuss. Overcrowding in the lower town, a slight increase in bandit activity (because people thought a weakened Uther meant weakened law enforcement), and the occasional person with possible information on Morgana’s whereabouts were just a few other troublesome things taking up Arthur’s time.

Lancelot was just as well suited to the task. His combat style was almost identical to Arthur’s, (Arthur’s favourite thing about the man) and, though Merlin would never say as much to Arthur’s face, Lancelot was a more patient teacher. The knights who’d been around longer could handle Arthur’s relentless pushing to do better, but the recruits sometimes needed a softer touch. Lancelot would smile and encourage where Arthur would challenge and yell for them to come at him with their best.

Merlin was jostled as he walked through a group of tired knights. When he came out the other side, it was to Gwaine and Elyan leaning leisurely against one of the weapon racks. They always _had_ been the two laziest, slacking off whenever they could. They ceased talking as soon as they saw Merlin.

Gwaine recovered first. He smiled and threw a friendly arm around him, nearly knocking the wind out of his body.

“Merlin! You’re up and about again, eh?”

_Up and about and getting my cock sucked by the Crown Prince before breakfast._

“I am. Were you part of the patrol that brought us back?”

“Aye. You two were certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“So I suppose Arthur told you I… What _did_ Arthur tell you?” Merlin asked.

Gwaine glanced at Elyan. Elyan took his weight off the weapon rack as he scratched his chin.

“It was the second night on the journey back. We were eating something Percival caught and Arthur was helping you drink,” he began. “There wasn’t any warning or anything. He just said, ‘Merlin has magic,’ and kept helping you drink.

“Then the next day we were riding again, and he broke the silence with, ‘None of you are to tell a soul about Merlin’s magic. It’s because of him that we’re alive. He is loyal to Camelot, to all of you, and he’s not to be wrongly executed like so many before him.’”

Merlin could see it himself, Arthur riding proud and tall at the head of his knights, a bit worse for wear but still strong and commanding. He could hear Arthur’s clear voice interrupting the calm of the forest to proclaim Merlin’s loyalty. Pride swelled in his chest.

With his arm still over Merlin’s shoulder, Gwaine shook him affectionately. “The knights are a brotherhood, Merlin. If you know anything, know you’re our brother just as much as any of them.”

Merlin didn’t think words would have as much meaning as actions, not in this situation. He held out his arm for Gwaine to grasp, and grasped Gwaine’s in return.

“Brother,” Merlin said, smiling back.

Merlin had never had much family, not like the other village children who had many brothers and sisters. It had always been just his mother and Will. Even his father the fates took from him.

There’d been times when Merlin dreamt of riding out to the ocean, shedding his clothes, jumping in, and never returning to land. Such fantasies had become rare when he found somewhat of a life for himself in Camelot, but there’d still been days when the call of the water was strong and he longed for the freedom to fly beneath the waves. Gwaine’s words were anchoring—they put weights in his feet and kept him grounded, gave him even more purpose.

“So how powerful are you?” Elyan asked.

Merlin looked over to where the training was most intense. Lancelot was still busy and Leon was helping a few recruits with their fighting stance.

“I was hoping to talk to everyone who knows together,” Merlin said. “Unless either of you don’t think that’s necessary?” He looked between Elyan and Gwaine.

“Not really, but they’ll probably want to talk to you anyway to let you know they understand,” Gwaine said. “If there’s anyone you should talk to, it’s Gwen.” Elyan nodded in agreement.

Guilt made Merlin’s chest heavy. He’d forgotten all about Gwen.

“I’ll find you all this evening in the knights’ quarters,” Merlin said.

“Better tell the men not to bring back any women from the lower town tonight,” Elyan muttered to Gwaine.

Merlin laughed as he turned and headed back to the castle, but he wasn’t entirely sure Elyan was just joking. Arthur forbid women (not all, just women for hire) from entering the knights’ quarters, and as Arthur’s loyal manservant, it’d be unfortunate for Merlin to be put in a position where he’d have to hide something from his master.

In the beginning, Uther was more like a spoilt child than a catatonic old man. He wouldn’t speak or eat by himself, and any attempt to make him do either was met with either a blank stare or nothing as he outright ignored the person molesting him. His expression never changed very much from its resting position, except when a single line formed between his brows in annoyance. He seemed to be giving the world the silent treatment.

It worsened after a few weeks. Where before he would sometimes sit at the window and look out on the courtyard, he no longer seemed to have the drive to get up, even with assistance. If he was ever out of bed, it was because someone had taken him out.

Uther didn’t require much supervision, not in the state he was in now. Gwen had tried to get him interested in things again, but there came a point when even she realised the futility of it. He was not interested in the window, so she didn’t put him there. Baths and massages didn’t help, so she only bathed him when he absolutely needed it.

The curtains were left open during the day to let in sunlight, and flowers were still brought in to further brighten the place up, but that was mainly because leaving Uther to wither away alone in a dark, depressing chamber was not a fate Gwen felt Uther deserved, no matter his past crimes.

Gwen had gained a friend at some point in the king’s decline—a sandy-haired maid that was just as clumsy and flustered as Merlin. Merlin had never got her name. She was almost always in a hurry somewhere, holding her skirts as she bustled down the corridor, but there had been a few times when Merlin had glimpsed her and Gwen laughing together about something or talking seriously about something else. She was plain but beautiful, fragile but with a strong character. Merlin liked her because even though she never seemed to have time to talk to him, she always made sure to smile at him as she passed.

It was this maid who was sitting with Gwen today, mending clothes by the open window while Uther sat against the headboard, gaze unwavering from his hands in his lap. The air was almost too sickly sweet with the fragrance of flowers. The women either didn’t notice or had grown used to it.

Merlin cleared his throat to alert them to his presence. The maid jumped, eyes widening in alarm like a frightened animal. Gwen smiled up at him.

“Merlin, hello.”

“Good afternoon, Gwen,” Merlin greeted her before turning to her friend. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met properly.”

The maid gave Merlin one of her brilliant smiles. “I’m Sefa. It’s me who should be apologising really, always running into you but never saying anything.”

“If anyone understands what it’s like to be so busy that you don’t have time to stop, it’s me,” Merlin assured her with a smile in return.

“Oh, yes, Gwen told me you’re the prince’s personal manservant. I can only imagine.”

“The reality is much worse, trust me,” he replied. He turned back to Gwen. “There’s something I need to speak with you about, if that’s alright.”

Gwen nodded. “Of course.”

He glanced at Sefa. “Alone, if possible.”

“Sefa, can you give us a moment?” Gwen asked.

Sefa nodded and set her mending aside. “A pleasure meeting you, Merlin,” she said with a small curtsey. Merlin wondered if she would’ve done the same gesture of respect for a lower servant. She picked up her skirts and hurried out.

Merlin took her place across from Gwen as soon as the door shut behind her. The breeze from the window actually was quite nice.

“How long has she been a serving girl here?” Merlin asked conversationally. “I’m sure I’ve heard her name before.”

Not one for being idle when she could be productive and talk at the same time, Gwen continued her mending. “Not more than a year. She said her and her father were incredibly poor and she came to the city to find work. I suppose her father stayed behind on a farm or something.”

Merlin ransacked his memory for where he could’ve possibly heard the name before, which corridor he might’ve been hurrying down when the name came up in conversation. He gave up after a moment. Perhaps it was simply one of those things that felt like they had already happened.

“Either way, she’s been a huge help,” Gwen continued. “Back when Uther needed more looking after, I couldn’t always afford to leave. I couldn’t go home, couldn’t run errands. The other servants wouldn’t help voluntarily because, well, it’s Uther. But Sefa was fresh from the country and ready to be of assistance. She’s just never seen the king when he’s well and able-minded. Perhaps then she’d have been more reluctant.” She seemed to be done with the tunic she’d been fixing, and went on to a pair of trousers. “What did you need to talk about, Merlin?”

Merlin looked briefly at Uther, still sitting slumped over and indifferent. “How is Uther, by the way? Still not talking?”

Gwen sighed. “Still not talking. I’m not even sure he understands speech anymore, since he won’t respond. I haven’t the heart to tell Arthur.”

Merlin nodded. On the short, short list of things that were better kept from Arthur, his father’s health was one of them. Merlin wouldn’t say that Uther had a chance at recovery, but he wouldn’t tell Arthur he was doomed either. He walked a thin line between being honest and sugarcoating things.

If it was true Uther was that far gone, did that make it safe to have the conversation here? Merlin’s palms started to sweat. Gaius would’ve told him to at least put a wall between them, not a mere few strides.

“Let’s move somewhere a bit more private,” he said and stood.

Gwen put her mending aside and followed him to the antechamber. Merlin stopped behind the door and closed it slightly after she stepped in.

“What I have to tell you regards magic,” he nearly whispered.

Gwen’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

Merlin took a deep breath, though he knew Gwen wouldn’t react badly. It was Gwen, after all.

“I… I have it. I’m a sorcerer. I always have been.” Merlin flashed his eyes gold and Gwen gasped.

“Merlin.” She clasped his hand with a grip more forceful than Merlin would’ve expected from her. Her eyes filled with tears, and in her haste to wipe them away, she nearly poked herself in the eye. “My father? Was that you?”

Merlin was relieved she still had sense enough to keep her voice low even after such a shocking revelation. Smiling, he put his other hand over hers to hold it like a fragile creature.

“Of course it was me, Gwen. I had to try.”

“You’re too nice for your own good, you fool.” Chuckling, she wiped the last of her tears away.

“Gaius says the same.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised he knows.” She gasped again as a thought struck her. “Does Arthur know?”

“Yes. I don’t suppose Gaius told you what happened to us?”

Gwen nodded. “He did. I went to see how you were doing twice while you were sleeping. He said you and Arthur had been captured by someone working for Morgana but managed to escape. The knights found you just in time and brought you home, but you were weak after being held prisoner and fighting your way out. Does this mean you fought with...?”

“Yes. That’s how Arthur knows. We were kept in a cave and they cut off my magic with cold iron.”

“Oh my goodness, Merlin! I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m better now, Gwen, that’s all that matters,” he said, patting her hand.

“How did Arthur react?”

Merlin tried and failed not to blush. He couldn’t help it. His mind had gone back to the moment when Arthur had said he’d never been more aroused in his entire life.

“He, erm, reacted better than expected.”

Gwen looked sincerely pleased. “That’s wonderful news, Merlin. Arthur’s a good man.”

Merlin wished he could tell Gwen just how much of a good man Arthur was. He was the only person who’d ever made Merlin feel truly comfortable with his body. More than comfortable—he made Merlin feel special in the best way possible.

As much as Merlin wanted to let his friend know what had developed between him and Arthur, it wasn’t solely his secret to tell, and a secret it was certainly to be until Arthur was crowned king. Maybe someday soon Gwen would be let in, as the knights most likely would be.

After a heartfelt hug, Merlin kissed Gwen’s cheek and pulled the door further open to leave. He froze when he caught sight of Uther.

The king was staring right at him.

Merlin’s blood ran cold. He forced himself to start breathing again and swallowed hard.

Uther’s face was still blank, there was that. But for the single crease between his brows, Uther was as expressionless as ever. However, the longer Merlin stood frozen to the spot, unable to look away, he wondered if that was recognition and awareness coming back to the old man’s usually glazed eyes.

Gwen brushed past Merlin, walking into his field of vision and round the bed to Uther’s side. The moment Gwen stood next to him, Uther blinked and shifted his gaze to her.

“Are you hungry, Your Majesty? Do you need the chamber pot?” Gwen asked. It was a testament to how close they were that Gwen took both of Uther’s pale hands in her own and started rubbing heat into them. Uther blinked but said nothing. “Shall I close the window? I didn’t realise how cold you were.”

Uther’s eyes drifted until they were staring blankly forward again. Merlin felt the hold on his limbs snap and left the room as quickly as he could.

The remainder of Merlin’s day passed quickly. He went to Gaius, who, after ascertaining that Merlin was for all intents and purposes suitably recovered, lectured him on his recklessness. That was before Merlin even mentioned that Uther may have heard him confess to having magic. Merlin saved that for a later time.

Suitably recovered, however, was not fully recovered. After an hour on his feet in town, two helping Gaius in the workshop, and another studying his spellbook again, Merlin felt drained. He couldn’t stand or sit up a second longer. He went to go lie down in his bed.

The sun was setting when he next opened his eyes. He still felt heavy and slow, but he groaned and pushed himself up anyway. He had knights to meet with.

There were a few different knights’ quarters; humble, four-level towers in each wall surrounding the city of Camelot. Arthur’s closest, most reliable men were stationed in the one nearest the castle. It was also the one that was the most spacious and lavishly furnished.

Leon, as captain of the knights, had his own chambers at the top of the tower. It was reached only by a ladder, and entered through a hatch door that could only be bolted shut from inside. It was there that Merlin suggested they gather.

The rest of Arthur’s closest men were just as accepting as Gwaine and Elyan had said they’d be. Merlin had never been hugged by either Leon or Percival, but he soon discovered that they both liked embracing just as tightly as Arthur did. Merlin wasn’t short by any means, but he always felt dwarfed standing next to them. Being wrapped in their arms just magnified the feeling.

Arthur was sitting at his work table drinking wine again when Merlin returned to the prince’s chambers with supper. Merlin slowed his gait as he walked to the table with the tray. It didn’t seem Arthur was too deep in his cups, not this time. He appeared to be only slightly tipsy, drinking enough to take the edge off.

“I take it your council meeting didn’t go well?” Merlin said.

Arthur set his goblet down with a resounding clap on the wood of the table. His pink lips were wet and obscenely gorgeous. Merlin looked away before his mind could run away with itself. It wasn’t the time.

“The patrol we went to look for is most likely dead,” Arthur stated flatly. The rest of his list was equally monotone. “When I had to fetch my own mid-day meal earlier, I went to look for you and found you snoring in your bed, which Gaius explained was due to your having worked yourself too hard again. After that, I went to see my father.”

Merlin’s stomach twisted.

“I spoke to Guinevere,” Arthur said, which was enough.

“Arthur, I’m sorry—”

“You couldn’t have taken at least a few more steps to have that conversation in the corridor?!”

“We were in the antechamber, I thought… Did he say something? He looked at me oddly for a moment but he didn’t say anything. Gwen says he can’t speak.”

Arthur picked up his goblet again, found it empty, seemed to consider pouring more, then sighed and put it down, shaking his head. “You should’ve been here at mid-day. I hate when it’s not you who brings me food.” The slight blush on Arthur’s face told Merlin he hadn’t meant to word that quite so openly, but he was too proud to take it back. “You _knew_ not to put all that strain on yourself, Merlin.”

“Like you haven’t overestimated how much you’ve recovered before.”

Arthur sighed and rubbed his forehead before getting back on track. “No, he didn’t say anything, but he seemed more…aware, I suppose. Merlin, I just hate to think that…” He choked on something, apparently unable to get the words out at first.

Merlin crossed the room and urged Arthur out of the chair, then led him to where he’d laid out the food. He made him sit down. “What do you hate to think, Arthur?”

“You told me he needs a reason to smile. You said he needs motivation. I wasn’t enough, but once you start talking about magic, he starts waking up.” Arthur looked up from frowning at his plate and into Merlin’s eyes. “Merlin, I’m not ready to be a king. I don’t want my father to die yet. But I hate to think that his hatred of magic is what gets him out of bed and back onto the throne. I hate to think that his first act once he’s returned to rule will be to have you executed.”

Merlin tried not to let his own fear get the better of him. Despite his reassurances to Arthur, the thought that Uther might actually get better came as a surprise. It had been so long, and though Merlin had never stopped _saying_ Uther would recover, he had apparently, at some point down the line, stopped believing it. Some part of him had already started preparing for the old king to die and for the new king to take his place. There’d even been times when he forgot that Arthur was still the prince.

It took a lot for Merlin to wish anyone dead. Or, to be more specific, it took one thing: a threat on a loved one’s life. He didn’t want Uther to die any more than Arthur, but he did find himself thinking of the king’s return with dread, and hoped it wouldn’t come to that. And contrary to what Arthur believed, Merlin thought Arthur was as ready as he’d ever be to take the throne.

Merlin sank slowly into the chair adjacent Arthur and tried to think about his options. Making sure Uther never recovered enough to rule again was out of the question. Letting him stay on his current path was too risky—if this wasn’t coincidence and Uther really was fighting his way back to health with rage-induced determination, Merlin would be burnt alive just like all those suspected of sorcery.

There was only one way out of it that Merlin found acceptable. The problem was, would Arthur find it acceptable?

“Merlin,” Arthur prodded. He still hadn’t touched his food.

Merlin folded his hands and put them on the table in front of him. Nothing to do but just say it, then.

“There are ways to make men forget things, Arthur.”

Arthur slammed his hands on the table and jumped to his feet. “Absolutely not.”

“Arthur—”

“I am not _enchanting_ my father!”

“It wouldn’t be enchanting, not really,” Merlin said in a rush, afraid Arthur wouldn’t let him finish. “I’d just pluck this one thing out of his head. He’d be otherwise the same.”

Arthur balled his hands into fists and leaned on the table, head between hunched shoulders. Merlin could see him warring with himself, weighing the options again just as Merlin had and coming to the same conclusion. Apart from killing Uther, this was the safest course of action.

“I still don’t know how you could be so stupid,” he growled.

Merlin bristled. If he didn’t know that Arthur was the slightest bit drunk, he would’ve taken more offence. Under the circumstances, he was willing to be a little more forgiving. “The man’s been unresponsive for ages and I thought we were out of earshot, how was I to know this would happen?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Arthur, sit down.”

Merlin didn’t expect Arthur to listen, so he was surprised when he did. Arthur probably realised that getting upset wouldn’t change anything.

“Eat,” Merlin said, pushing Arthur’s plate closer. Arthur sighed and started to eat. “We don’t even know for certain if Uther really is recovering. It could just be a slight increase in awareness that’ll stop here. Or he could relapse. He could get better quickly, or slowly. We shouldn’t overreact when things are so open-ended.”

He picked up his own plate off the tray and put it before him. Luckily, it hadn’t cooled that much.

“Have you spoken to Gaius?” Merlin asked as he took the first bite.

Arthur was in the middle of swallowing when he nodded. “He’s going to examine him tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll see what happens. We’ll take it day by day.” Merlin placed his hand over Arthur’s, but couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. He kept his gaze on their hands as he spoke. “I know you think using magic is the worst case scenario, but I really think… If Uther does know about me and you don’t want me to leave Camelot or be sentenced to death, I think making him forget is for the best.”

Arthur sighed again, and when he turned his hand palm up to curl his fingers around Merlin’s, Merlin felt a weight lift off his chest.

“I know, Merlin.”

Getting into bed, Merlin tried not to feel too disappointed that Arthur wouldn’t be taking his virginity that night either. But under the joy of being able to sleep in the prince’s bed, in the prince’s arms, it was there, a twinge of disappointment. Even if he hadn’t worked himself too hard and napped a good portion of the day away, Uther’s condition had jolted Arthur enough. He had no right to feel disappointed when both things were his fault.

Merlin closed his eyes and settled back against Arthur, who was already well on the way to sleep thanks to the wine. This wasn’t so bad, not at all. It was still more than Merlin thought he’d ever have, and he was certainly not complaining.

Arthur was predictably loath to get out of bed the next morning. Merlin offered to fetch some of Gaius’s remedy but Arthur swatted at him from under the covers and groaned that he felt fine, he was just tired.

“Excellent, so it shouldn’t be a problem if I—”

“Merlin, don’t you dare.”

“Too late!” Merlin said cheerily. He threw open the curtains and let the sun in. “Rise and shine!”

Arthur’s muffled groan then was more like a childish whine.

“Come on, Arthur. Don’t make me magic the covers off you.”

Arthur grumbled something that Merlin couldn’t hear. Merlin went closer and preemptively curled fingers in the fabric.

“Sorry, what was that, sire?”

Arthur’s voice was still muffled, but Merlin could clearly hear, “I said, I’d rather you get back under here with me.”

Merlin bent to a crouch and peered under the blanket. Half of Arthur’s face was in the pillow, but one eye blinked sleepily back at Merlin and his lips were definitely in a pout.

Merlin grinned. “Well, only because you have nothing to do ‘til later and because no one will dare to tell _you_ off for staying in bed a little longer.”

He let the cover fall so he could reach down and take off his boots. He got into bed, lying on his left side so he could face Arthur.

It was a bit strange being back in bed and being the only one with so many clothes on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just a little warm. Merlin smiled as Arthur put his arm over his waist and shifted his legs closer.

“Better?” Merlin asked.

Arthur hummed. “Mmm, much better.” He sighed and Merlin felt his body relax as he closed his eyes again.

Merlin kept his eyes open, feeling like he could’ve lay there unmoving with Arthur for ages in the dim light under the covers, he was so content. After a few moments, Arthur huffed and grabbed Merlin’s hand, pulling it until Merlin’s arm was over Arthur’s hip and mirroring the embrace.

Merlin smiled, let his fingers brush back and forth over the warm skin of Arthur’s lower back. A bit lower and he would’ve been teasing the crack of Arthur’s arse, but he decided to save that for later.

“Don’t forget we still have to get up in a bit.”

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

Arthur was standing with his arms crossed on the other side of Uther’s bed. Every now and then during Gaius’s examination he shot Merlin glances that oscillated between worry and “this is all your fault.”

Merlin tried not to feel guilty again. Yes, it had been reckless of him not to move further away, to admit to having magic _practically_ in front of a man who mercilessly purged his kingdom of it and continued to burn sorcerers alive, but that man had been nothing but a husk at the time. And if anyone had been loud in the antechamber, it hadn’t been Merlin. He knew for a fact that his voice had been almost inaudible. It’d been Gwen who’d shout-whispered things like “does Arthur know.” Not that Merlin could entirely blame her—she was easily excitable and Merlin should’ve taken that into account.

Merlin once again briefly entertained the idea of living in the ocean until Uther finally passed away in his own time and Arthur was crowned king.

Uther’s eyes didn’t seem to linger on him though, which Merlin figured was a good sign. It appeared the king had simply taken one step forward after having originally taken two steps back—he was able to nod, shake his head, and grunt like he could before, but only after excessive prodding and encouragement. At one point, Uther had simply closed his eyes and shut off completely, unwilling to cooperate with Gaius’s tests.

“He was better yesterday,” Gwen said, hands wringing a piece of her skirt. Sefa was removing old, wilted flowers from the room, quietly moving about and tidying up the place as the four of them studied Uther. “Do you think he was simply… Maybe something just rattled him a bit, but he’s calmed down now?”

Merlin gulped and looked at Gaius. Though Gaius had heard it from Arthur the previous night, who’d heard it from Gwen, the old man was still understandably furious. He was glowering at Merlin now.

“You never can be entirely certain when it comes to illnesses of the mind,” Gaius said, folding his glasses and putting them in one of the many pockets in his robe. “I do fear, however, that the toll such a prolonged state of bedrest has taken on his body is great. He’s certainly not as mature as I, mind, but high enough in years that his bones and muscles aren’t quite what they used to be due to disuse. It also seems that, bedrest aside, his body is failing naturally. That it’s happening now is merely coincidence.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur asked, more patient than Merlin would’ve expected given the circumstances. “Will he rule again or not?”

Gaius pursed his lips and considered a moment. “It’s still within the realm of possibility that he may speak. He’s not gone mad or mute. But any ruling he would be doing would be from his bed or from a chair. Perhaps he’d be able to stand for a few moments at a time, but with assistance. Even then, the length of his rule wouldn’t be long.” Gaius put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyes had begun to gleam, and by the end of Gaius’s speech they were brimming with tears. Merlin swallowed past a lump in his throat and looked away. He couldn’t handle seeing Arthur in pain, never had been able to.

“How much longer would you say he has?”

“It’s impossible to give a definite estimate, but almost certainly he won’t see another summer.”

“Winter, then,” Arthur said decisively, voice thick as he nodded seemingly to himself. “Winter will kill him.”

Gaius said nothing. For a long moment, there was silence. Or rather, there was the sound of Sefa’s small feet padding around the room.

The rustle of bedclothes made Merlin look up. Uther’s eyes were open again, staring at the ceiling. His lips parted and his voice was lost as he tried to speak.

Hurriedly wiping tears, Arthur rushed to Uther’s side. “Father?”

Uther’s lips moved again and Arthur leaned over to listen. Merlin waited just as anxiously as the others.

Arthur's brow furrowed. “He’s saying ‘leave.’”

“Should we go then?” Gwen asked, looking torn.

Arthur listened more as Uther’s lips continued just barely moving. After a few seconds, he repeated his father’s words. “All. Leave.” He stood straight again. “Perhaps he just wants to be alone for a while. Gaius put him through more than he’s used to and I think he needs rest.”

Merlin was stunned. Even Sefa, standing by the door with dying flowers in her hands, was wide-eyed with shock.

What did this mean for Uther’s progress?

Gaius studied Uther’s face, but Merlin couldn’t imagine what else he could be seeing besides what they all saw. Uther’s expression was the same: blank, barely blinking, hardly there.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Gaius said. “Come,” he addressed the others, “let the king have his rest.”

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Father. Get well soon.” Arthur squeezed his father’s hand once, then nodded to Merlin and turned to go.

Gwen went to the door, took the flowers from Sefa, and left with her. Merlin stood to leave with Gaius.

A hand on his wrist stopped him. Merlin whipped his head around.

Uther was no longer staring at the ceiling. He was staring at Merlin.

Merlin couldn’t hear the words Uther spoke, but he could read his lips.

“Not you.”

Everyone but Gaius had already gone. Gaius had stopped at the door to wait for Merlin, no doubt to lecture him properly now that Uther’s examination was over. Seeing Uther’s hand gripping Merlin’s wrist, he raised a curious brow.

Merlin ignored the thudding of his heart and nodded for Gaius to go on. Gaius closed the door and left him alone with the king.

Slowly, Merlin sank back into his chair. Uther let go of his wrist and let his hand lay limply on the blanket by his side.

“Your Majesty?”

The look in Uther’s eyes was neither hatred nor fury. To Merlin, it was more like he was struggling to remember something—how to speak and what he wanted to say, perhaps. Merlin imagined him trying to chase the fleeting thoughts in his head and pin them down.

For the first time since Merlin arrived in Camelot, Uther didn’t frighten him. He didn’t seem like the mad, vengeful king Merlin had always thought him to be. Now, he simply looked like Arthur’s father, old and on his death bed.

His voice was a little stronger when he spoke, and he gained volume as he went on. “Gaius trusts you.”

Merlin nodded. “He’s like a father to me. He’s family.”

“You have magic.”

Merlin swallowed, clenched his hands, and nodded again. He looked for something in Uther’s eyes that might give away emotion, but found nothing.

Uther was putting the pieces together—struggling, but doing it. Merlin decided to help.

He leaned forward, folding his hands on the bed. “Uther—Your Majesty. I have magic, but I promise you, I swear on my _life_ , I would never hurt Camelot. I’m not evil, I’m not corrupted, and I would never hurt Arthur. I want nothing more than to see them both thrive. It’s what I was born for.” Merlin tactfully left out the part about bringing magic back to the kingdom. “I live to serve your son. I would do anything for him. I love him.”

“Stop.”

Merlin shut up and hoped Uther wasn’t about to sentence him to death with his dying breath.

“Too much,” Uther said. Merlin nodded. He knew he had a habit of rambling, and he could imagine all the words jumbling together as Uther tried to make sense of them. “I’m tired.”

“Did you want me to—

“No. You. Don’t understand.”

Merlin frowned. “I’m sorry. Tired how?”

“Too tired. To have you killed.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Just. Take care of Arthur. I know. He lays with men. I know. He cares for you. As well.”

Merlin felt a wave of hot jealousy at the plural “men,” but pushed it down and told himself it was hardly the time for such a feeling. He knew there’d been others, of course there’d been others, even women too, Merlin bet, but Arthur cared for him now, as Uther said.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Could always speak. It’s easier not to.”

Merlin put a few pieces together himself. With Morgana’s betrayal, with the simple fact that his own daughter wanted him dead, it wasn’t unreasonable that Uther would prefer to shut out the world and live in his head. As his state worsened, as he stopped caring for things and responding in even the littlest of ways, his cognitive functions deteriorated. He _could_ try to fight his way out of his illness, but he had a perfectly capable son to take his place.

And he was not only old, but tired. Merlin’s mother had always told him it took more effort to hate than love, and Uther had spent half his life hating, had dedicated his reign to it in fact. Being so tired, it had to be better to drift with his head in the clouds than go on. Merlin didn’t exactly blame him.

Hearing the word “magic,” however, must’ve been a trigger, something to pull him out for a moment. For that moment, maybe he considered fighting again. If he thought his son’s manservant to be an infiltrator, it wasn’t just Camelot at risk.

Something had changed between yesterday evening and today, but Merlin didn’t know what. It was possible that in his temporarily clear-headed state, Uther could figure out that if Merlin wanted to kill Arthur and ruin Camelot, he’d had plenty of chances by now. It was possible that he’d let himself ease back into the comforting haze, safe in the knowledge that even though Merlin had magic, he wasn’t an immediate threat. It was a long shot, but it was all Merlin could come up with.

Asking Merlin about Gaius was the final step. Gaius was Uther’s closest advisor and they’d known each other for decades. If Gaius trusted Merlin, Merlin couldn’t be evil.

Merlin didn’t think all that alone was enough to keep Uther from sticking to tradition and killing every magic-user that stepped foot in Camelot’s borders, but maybe the fog of his declining mind was like an enchantment by itself. Merlin had seen plenty of people high in years lose their coherency and purpose. Since his legacy wasn’t in peril, the clouds were telling him to come back.

“I won’t tell them,” Merlin promised. “You have my word.”

He stood and went to close the curtain over the window. He moved most of the flowers into the antechamber to get rid of the sickly sweet smell. He fluffed Uther’s pillow. That was when he saw tears falling from Uther’s eyes, though Uther’s face was as smooth and blank as ever.

Merlin didn’t know what to do, had never in all his life expected to see the fearless Uther Pendragon cry. Leaving seemed rude, and Uther was looking right at him.

“I would have killed you. Why do you help me?”

Merlin often had trouble holding Uther’s gaze before, but this was one time where he found it easy. He kept his voice firm and spoke slowly, wanting to make sure the words registered in Uther’s head.

“I’ve had opportunities to let you die before, Uther. Every time, I’ve saved you.”

A flicker of emotion passed Uther’s face then, just briefly—a look of wonder and confusion all in one, then gone.

“I’ll be honest,” Merlin continued. “I don’t like you. When you die, it’s Arthur I’ll mourn for, not you. You’re his father. That’s why I saved you before and that’s why I help you now.” He took Uther’s hands and folded Uther’s arms to lay comfortably across his chest. “I told you before. I love him.”

“He is. Lucky to have you.”

Merlin chuckled. “That’s what I keep telling him.” He stepped back, arms behind him in the best impression of a servant he’d ever done. “If that will be all, Your Majesty?”

“Leave.”

Merlin bowed and left.

He told Arthur all that Uther had said that night over supper, and the prince was more than relieved. Later, in bed, Merlin couldn’t help asking the other thing that had been on his mind since his talk with his father.

“Arthur?”

Arthur was breathing against the back of Merlin’s neck, but his rhythm hadn’t steadied into that of sleep just yet. “Hmm?”

“There was something your father said that I was wondering about. When he said he knows you care about me, he mentioned he knew you laid with men. Arthur, how many people have you _been_ with?”

Arthur didn’t say anything right away. After a moment, he propped himself up on his elbow and Merlin shifted to lay on his back and find his eyes in the dark of the room.

“There’ve been a lot,” Arthur admitted. “From the time I was maybe fourteen, fifteen, up to a couple summers before I met you, I laid with whoever was up for it. I was at the age where I was easily aroused and all I wanted was sex. You know how it is. Being handsome and being the prince made it easy to get whoever I wanted.”

Merlin groaned. “No wonder you have such a big head now.” Arthur laughed. “But, I mean, who? Servants? Visiting lords? The stable boys you say were always up for a tumble?”

“All of them,” Arthur said without missing a beat. “Even my archery teacher. You never see me use a bow, do you? Only a crossbow. It’s because I was terrible at archery and still am. My father wanted me to master everything, but he didn’t have time to check up on me, too busy with running the kingdom and hunting down every last sorcerer. Honestly he didn’t have time for a lot of things when it came to me. But anyway, I told my archery teacher to lie for me, tell my father I was making progress. The thing is, nobody wants to lie to Uther Pendragon. So I made him a deal. During the time we were meant to be training, I sucked his cock, and he told my father I was doing well.”

Merlin was speechless. He’d figured Arthur had experience but he never would’ve imagined Arthur being the castle whore.

“I slowed down quite a bit when Morgana arrived. I was eighteen then and focusing more on princely duties anyway, but she still found my behaviour disgusting and never passed up on an opportunity to say so. She called me a pig, but I think she was just angry she couldn’t enjoy the privilege of being with whoever she wanted. When she caught me flirting with Guinevere she put an absolute stop to it, told me she’d put my cock in a cage while I slept if I kept it up.”

He smiled wistfully at the memory, and Merlin’s heart ached for him, his lost sister.

“Even after that there were a few more incidents before I really did stop, but only two or three of my knights, and an older noblewoman who cried the whole time and kept telling me her husband never loved her.”

“Your knights?” Merlin echoed. “Which ones?”

“Oh, I can’t remember now. Leon and someone else.”

“Leon?!”

“Why do you think he’s so loyal to me? He fucked me _once_ in the armoury and he’s been overly attached ever since.”

Merlin put his hands over his face. He’d never be able to look at Leon the same way again.

Arthur pulled his hands away and looked down at him. “There was no one after I met you. I meant what I said, that I was attracted to you right from the start. Even maybe became a bit obsessed with having you. That’s why I couldn’t believe it when you said you felt ugly and that you were a virgin.”

“I’m _still_ a virgin,” Merlin pointed out. “And would _really_ like to not be one.” While Arthur had spent his youth sleeping with half the castle, Merlin had spent it sticking whatever suitable object he could find up his arse.

Arthur chuckled and caressed Merlin’s cheek with a callused thumb. “Soon. If that’s all, I’d like to sleep now.”

Merlin grumbled and turned over, only feeling less jealous when Arthur wrapped a possessive arm around him and began breathing against his neck again.

With Uther’s fate no longer up in the air and uncertain, Arthur turned his attention back to matters of the court. There were still wheels spinning, things in motion he couldn’t ignore, as was the way of life. Besides the goings-on in Camelot, for example, there was always the threat of Morgana. How long before another attempt was made on Arthur’s life?

Merlin was at least glad that his and Arthur’s abductors had died before Morgana could be told it was the troublesome manservant who’d had magic and had been protecting Arthur the whole time. Besides the druids and the few people he trusted, no one knew he was just as valuable as the king. Even if his secret had managed to worm its way into whispers somewhere, Merlin felt a bit more safe with his brothers beside him.

Arthur put a little more effort into diplomatic relations than he had before. He wrote to noble families, congratulating them on things like the birth of children or marriage; he wrote to vassals who _thought_ themselves particularly noble and said that he was pleased with their behaviour under the crown, to keep up the good work. A few times he’d paid a group of beggars to clean up the streets a little, keep the city looking nice. It gave them a little work to do when he had no other job to offer.

A week passed, and each day Merlin could see more and more of the king Arthur would become. He could imagine the letters Arthur was writing were proposing to share resources to fight off the Saxons and feed kingdoms, to stop fighting and work toward peace. He could pretend Arthur was inviting druid leaders to feast with him at Samhain and stay for his birthday. Merlin was incredibly pleased despite the sombre undertone in Arthur’s countenance.

And Arthur had promised him long baths at least once a week. How could Merlin not be satisfied?

“You’re restless,” Arthur said at supper eight nights after Merlin told him about his gills.

They already had a routine, and it was bordering on domestic by this point. The council recognised Arthur as the king, and therefore so did everyone else, from highborne to low. But there was no joy in dining alone in the dining hall, so Arthur more often than not dined in his chambers with Merlin. Tonight there was roast pig. No wine.

Merlin shifted his legs in his seat, put his elbow on an armrest, and leisurely took a long sip from his goblet. His neck felt bare without his scarf, but Arthur liked to see the play of shadows from the fire across his collarbones, and Merlin wasn’t going to disagree, at least for now.

He _was_ restless. He still wanted Arthur to fuck him and couldn’t understand why it hadn’t happened yet. There’d only ever been Arthur’s mouth, and Merlin had even started to return the favour, had insisted on it in fact. Only the previous day Merlin had become so frustrated and impatient that he’d jerked his hips up and mercilessly fucked Arthur’s face. He’d worried at first, but when Arthur hadn’t made any noises in complaint, he’d done it a bit more roughly. He’d twisted his fingers in Arthur’s hair, pushed his nose into his skin and made him take his whole throbbing cock down his throat as he came, spine arched off the bed. Then it’d been Arthur’s turn.

“Can I be frank?” Merlin asked, putting down his goblet.

Arthur put a bit of roast pig in his mouth and swallowed. “You’re only ever varying degrees of frankness, Merlin. Go on.”

Merlin’s hand curled tightly around the goblet’s stem. “I’m done with waiting. I don’t know what you’re playing at. I want you to fuck me.”

Arthur leaned forward, elbow on the table, and put his chin in his hand. He stared at Merlin with half-lidded eyes, looking almost bored. Finally, he said, “How did you want me to fuck you?”

“I, I don’t know. I suppose I trusted _you_ to make it feel good. You’re the one with all the experience.”

“When you think about me fucking you, how are we doing it?” Arthur asked flatly.

Merlin tried to keep his breathing even. He couldn’t quite look Arthur in the eye anymore, not when images of his fantasies flew threw his mind. He looked down at the table, at the whorling patterns in the wood.

Why was Arthur doing this?

 _Maybe he gets off on it_.

Merlin didn’t know, but he wouldn’t be surprised. He tried to pin down one image at a time. There were a lot of things he wanted to do with Arthur, but he had a few favourites.

“How do you want me to fuck you, Merlin?” Arthur nudged.

“Hard.” The word fell from Merlin’s mouth before he could stop it. Not a whisper, but not quite full volume either.

Arthur’s lips twitched as he let a quick smile pass. “And?”

“Slow. But then, also fast.”

Arthur smiled fully then, amusement evident behind the fondness in his eyes. “I’ve never told you this, but I sometimes think about you scrubbed completely clean, anointed in oils,” he confessed rather randomly. “Fingers and toenails clipped, kohl around your eyes.”

“You think of me as a woman then,” Merlin snorted. “I suppose my hair’s long and combed?”

“No. Your hair’s short, the way it was when you cut it two summers ago. And you wouldn’t be a woman, you’d just be a bit more pretty. Exotic.”

“You think of me as exotic,” Merlin deadpanned.

“Yes. You’d wear silk trousers and sheer tunics, so everyone could see your gills. Bracelets up and down your arms that double as magic artefacts. You’d look beautiful and otherworldly, enchanting like the magical creature you are. The living treasure of Camelot. And its Court Sorcerer.”

Merlin saw the picture Arthur painted. He saw himself out of his peasant rags and adorned like an enticing travelling youth. Ruby red lips smiling in invitation, gills slightly flaring under the nearly transparent fabric of his shirt. He’d stick out in Camelot for sure, but in a good way, in a way that was—what word had Arthur used?—otherworldly.

Merlin had thought of his future a lot. Who didn’t? However, in all versions of his future, he’d never thought of himself like that, prettied up and shown off as the jewel of the court. It was even a little too close to being put on display for his comfort. He wasn’t much for attention, especially not when his mother had raised him to keep his head down.

But that was just it—he always kept his head down, hunched his shoulders and tried to disappear. His clothes were made of coarse material and were drab. The thought of being able to freely use magic, of being looked at with desire and awe, was slowly becoming as equally appealing to him as he thought it must be to Arthur.

He saw them in one of the castle gardens in summer, his loose sheer tunic falling off one of his shoulders as he lounged beside Arthur in the shade of a tree. He saw vines of ivy magically twisting and curling together to make a crown for him as he laughed at something Arthur said. People passing by greeted them, some simply saying hello and some stopping to speak with either Arthur or himself. None of them could help darting their eyes over Merlin, at his alluring beauty and grace.

Merlin chuckled, pulling himself out of his reverie. “A sheer tunic? Really? A bit impractical, don’t you think? Maybe if we lived in some far off land where the weather—”

“Not all the time, idiot,” Arthur said. “You’d have as many clothes as I. As many as you want.”

He got up from the table, apparently having finished supper while Merlin was lost in his imagination, and came to stand behind Merlin’s chair. He put a hand on Merlin’s left shoulder and spoke lowly in his right ear.

“I’d be careful with them, your clothes. I’d peel them off and put them aside one by one. Then I’d bend you over, hold you down, and fuck you until you screamed.”

Merlin gripped the armrest of his chair. _Oh gods yes._

He found he was done eating. He abruptly got to his feet and before he could think better of it, pulled his tunic over his head and cast it aside. In another moment he had his trousers and smallclothes off, and was thankful he’d removed his boots before they’d sat down to eat.

“Well done, Merlin, you’ve undressed,” Arthur said after a lazy glance over Merlin’s body. “Any idiot can do that. What I’m curious to see is something else.”

Merlin looked into Arthur eyes and saw the challenge. He didn’t have to play this game. Arthur would give him what he wanted tonight either way. But Merlin wasn’t afraid. Nervous, to be sure, but also excited and a little thrilled. What happened tonight would complete the foundation of the relationship they’d been building. Every time hereafter would sprout from this one.

Merlin was blushing, he knew he was. But as he briefly closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, he told himself it didn’t matter. Maybe it would even work in his favour, the addition of a little pink in his face.

In the stretched out second between inhaling and exhaling, Merlin reached out with his magic. Or rather, he let magic reach him. He let the breath of the world in, from the tallest tree in the forest to the smallest blade of grass in the soil, from the highest mountain to the deepest, darkest cavern.

The earth was a mother, a nurturing woman, but she had many guises. She could be the comforting sway in the ocean waves or the unforgiving rockslide down the side of a cliff. She could be the intricate swirl in a seashell, or the peaceful calm at sunrise.

Merlin was a man, but he was also more than that, if he let himself be. Having the power of the Old Religion inside him, he was a creature of magic as Arthur had said, in his own hybrid sort of way. Kin to both fish and dragons, son of the sea and the sky, born from a mortal woman.

How had he not realised it earlier, the effect he had on people? If it wasn’t someone trying to kill him, there was almost always instant charisma, and a quick flash of memories revealed he’d always had clumsy charm.

He knew how to be alluring. He’d been doing it unintentionally for as long as he could remember.

When Merlin opened his eyes, between one second and the next, he felt like a force of nature. Was his skin glowing?

His muscles relaxed. He smiled and closed the short distance between he and Arthur slowly, gliding more than walking, and pressed his body against him. One hand he let wrap around Arthur’s waist, the other he slid up the back of Arthur’s neck, fingers in soft blond locks.

He knew how to kiss Arthur. That much they had had plenty of practice doing. He knew the common circuit of Arthur’s tongue, the way his mouth opened and closed, all the timing. He knew that when Arthur got impatient he pushed their lips together so hard it hurt—but only for a moment, only to let Merlin know he wanted more. He was too noble to force anything or cause Merlin unwanted pain.

When Arthur raised his own hand to the small of Merlin’s back, Merlin reached down quick as a viper and took it off, keeping it prisoner in his grip. Arthur could’ve got his hand back, but didn’t, the way Merlin knew he wouldn’t.

After another moment, Merlin pulled away and stepped back. Arthur watched him walk backward to the other side of the room with hooded eyes that no longer looked bored, but intoxicated, drunk with desire.

“Can any idiot do this?”

Merlin knew where the oil was kept. And because he knew, his magic knew. He didn’t have to really think about it, he just told his magic what he wanted, and it gave it to him. Without a word, but with a lazy wave of his hand for show, he had the phial floating out of its cupboard and over to the bed, waiting for him.

Arthur took a step forward but Merlin stopped him with a raised hand and a slight parting of his lips. “Not just yet,” he purred, feeling more power than ever. “Wait right there.”

Merlin climbed onto the bed with all the grace he could muster and lay back. He sighed as he sank into the pillows. The royal bed really was quite comfortable, and he still wasn’t over it after a week.

At first he didn’t think about Arthur standing there, frozen to the spot by Merlin’s words, watching him. He kept his head turned so half his face was in a pillow and took in large breaths through his nose as he fondled himself to hardness. There was no rush; he played with his balls in one hand and slowly stroked up and down the shaft with the other. Gave himself a few good squeezes every now and then, making his otherwise even breath hitch.

He let himself remember Arthur’s presence when he was ready, both mentally and physically. Before he and Arthur became _this_ , he’d never thought about how much he’d like Arthur seeing his erection. And yet he did—he loved it when Arthur saw his cock hard, loved the way they both knew who it was for. He loved the attention Arthur gave to it too, but that was a different story.

He was as hard as he could possibly get when he was ready physically, foreskin stretched back, veins bulging beneath the tender skin. Mentally, he’d prepared himself for the game, the game of seduction and shamelessness. That’s what it often was between them, challenges and games. Insults, teasing, dancing along blurred lines to see who could push whom the farthest. Everything from that aspect of their relationship Merlin just brought into this one. Much easier to do now, after embracing his nature.

He plucked the phial of oil from where it hovered beside him and caught Arthur’s eye in the process. Pulled out the stopper, poured a little in the bend of his knuckles, let it hover again while the stopper stuck itself back in. He spread his legs wide, as wide as they’d go, not looking away from Arthur for a second, and reached down to push an oily finger inside.

He hadn’t done this to himself for a while, but it seemed his arse remembered how things went. After a few seconds of the initial burn, there was only a mild discomfort as he worked his finger in deeper. He went in to the second knuckle relatively easily, pulled out a little, then pushed back in to the third. Slowly, oh so slowly, he rotated the finger inside, following the slick, warm wall around and loosening the muscle. He didn’t try to hold back the sharp inhalation and sudden bend of his spine when he hit a nerve that sent a jolt of ecstasy through him. Across the room, Arthur twitched more than a little as well.

He forced in a second finger, pumped them in and out until he was breathless and quivering from the vigorous effort. Arthur looked wrecked, torn between the desire to watch and help. His eyes were pinned to Merlin’s hand, its filthy act, but then they couldn’t seem to decide where to land. Arthur’s gaze flicked from left to right, top to bottom, his eyes drinking their fill of Merlin.

When Merlin’s arm finally got tired, he shoved his fingers in as deep as they would go and curled them in a brutal crook, moaning as every muscle in his body seemed to tense at the same time. Straightening his fingers and quickly curling them again, his mouth fell open and he shuddered. He finally broke eye contact with Arthur to throw his head back and squeeze his cock with his free hand again, overcome with pleasure.

Gods, he’d missed this, this feeling of his arse being stretched and penetrated. He wanted more, wanted to go deeper but also wanted something bigger.

With more care than necessary, Merlin pulled his fingers out. Chest heaving and gills flaring, he unbent his spine and lifted his head. He looked straight at Arthur and didn’t even have to consciously nudge his magic to take Arthur’s clothes off. In his one-track state of mind, it happened naturally, instinctively. The laces on Arthur’s trousers began undoing themselves and his shirt started to raise up to his armpits.

Crawling up the bed to join Merlin, Arthur smiled and said, “I’ll admit no one’s done _that_ for me before. Impressive for a virgin.” He kissed the inside of Merlin’s thigh before kissing him on the lips.

It didn’t last long, not like before. The time for kissing was past for the moment. There was another milestone Merlin planned on reaching before they kissed any more.

He took the phial from beside him again and unstopped it. “I told you the first night, Arthur,” he said. “I want you. I always will. So fuck me already.”

Finally, Arthur did. He put his oiled cock in Merlin’s tight virgin arse and Merlin thought he would burst from everything happening at once. The blistering pain was somewhat expected, and at one point Merlin thought it might be too much. Arthur was bigger than anything Merlin had ever dared put up his arse before.

He clawed at Arthur’s shoulder, but didn’t tell him to stop. When it was bearable and Arthur pulled out just enough to push a little back in, Merlin’s jaw dropped.

_Arthur’s inside me, Arthur’s inside me._

He thought he might cry from how good it felt, and Arthur had barely even started moving yet. Merlin let him go at his own pace for a bit, but soon enough he tilted his hips up for a better angle and took Arthur so deep that the volume of his moan surprised even him. He wanted it, he _wanted_ it.

Arthur gave it to him. Again. And again. And again. He thrust in deep with sure, forceful motions of his hips, until he was ramming into Merlin, fucking his arse hard. Merlin only realised his hands had raised to the headboard for better leverage when the wood started digging into his palms.

He was panting as Arthur picked up speed. “Oh—oh gods—fuck—so good.”

Arthur wormed his arms under Merlin’s thighs and lifted him enough to shuffle forward and— _Triple Goddess have mercy, that feels good._

The new angle allowed for more cooperation. Merlin dropped his hips down, impaling himself on Arthur’s cock as Arthur thrust upward. Merlin’s body did less rocking and more bouncing, the pleasure so acute that he never wanted it to end. Eventually he took over himself, dropping his arms to the bed to support his weight and slamming his arse down to take Arthur in as deep and fast as he could.

“Merlin,” Arthur warned. “Oh gods, Merlin.”

Merlin kept going until arms wound tightly around his torso and restricted his breathing. He felt his lungs and chest try to expand as he inhaled, felt his gills partially flare in the nonexistent space between his and Arthur’s bodies. Arthur breathed into the curve of Merlin’s neck, exhausted and strained.

“Too much?” Merlin managed with his limited air.

Arthur loosened his hold and Merlin took in a deep breath. “I’m close,” Arthur said hoarsely.

Merlin clenched around Arthur's cock, reluctant to part with it so soon. He hoped when they both finished Arthur was up for doing it again. Did Arthur have much planned for tomorrow? Merlin couldn’t remember without the list in front of him. How did anyone get anything done when they could be having sex all day? Gwaine’s fixation with it certainly made more sense now, and it was no wonder Arthur had taken advantage of his access to it. The more sex they had, the more they wanted.

Merlin sighed and let his arms drop his weight. Arthur’s arms kept his back from fully touching the bed, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He felt a wet kiss on the side of his neck. “We have the rest of our lives.”

Merlin smiled at the thought then teased, “What about when we’re so old we can’t get it up?”

Arthur gave a punishing thrust. “We’re young now and I’m about to spend inside you for the first time, so don’t talk about such things. Idiot.”

“Mmm. Sounds good to me. I’m close, too.”

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t, after all that.”

“Shut up and keep fucking me.”

Arthur trailed a hand down Merlin’s chest to his cock and wrapped his fingers firmly around it. Merlin pushed up into the tight hold but then back down to take Arthur again, and couldn’t make up his mind between which sensation he wanted to chase more.

“You’re lucky bossy suits you,” Arthur said. “In this situation anyway.”

Merlin ignored him. He kept oscillating between wanting more of Arthur’s hand and more of Arthur’s dick. In the end he opted for both and continued the up and down motion for equal amounts of fucking and being fucked. He threw his head back again when it was too much, a short cry escaping as he came.

He scarcely had time to regain his wits when suddenly Arthur was pinning his arms down on either side of him. Arthur’s eyes stared into his and his lips twitched in a slight grin. It was after six or seven more hard thrusts that Arthur went still and filled Merlin with his seed.

Merlin felt empty when Arthur pulled out. But he also felt used, filthy, and still pleasantly wide open, so he couldn’t complain. He was more than satisfied.

Sprawled out beside him, Arthur looked satisfied as well, but he also looked tired. Merlin poked him.

“Can we do it again tonight?”

Arthur’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t open them to reply. “I might have one more round in me. But it’s been a long day.”

Merlin sighed. “We don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand. You’re tired. I’m a bit tired too.”

Arthur rolled over and draped an arm over Merlin. Maybe he’d move to let Merlin clean up soon, maybe he wouldn’t. Merlin had magic either way, though it would’ve been nice to get under the blanket at least if they were going to sleep now.

Arthur yawned. “Thanks, Merlin. It’s just. Being king during the day takes a lot out of me.”

Merlin moved a hand to caress the arm stretched over his chest and smiled. “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Everything fell apart the next morning.

Gwen burst into Arthur’s chambers unannounced, startling Arthur awake, who in turn jerked Merlin to wakefulness. Arthur bolted upright while Merlin rubbed his eyes and raised his head to see what was happening.

Tears streamed down Gwen’s face, but whatever she was about to say seemed to have caught in her throat. Her eyes were wide with shock as she took in the sight of Merlin naked in Arthur’s bed.

“ _Merlin_?” She tilted her head, her brow furrowing as her eyes drifted downward. “What’s wrong with your chest?”

Merlin felt himself flush with mortification and dread. He pulled the blanket up to his neck.

“Guinevere, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, taking control. He made a gesture to Merlin, urging him to get him something to put on so he could get up.

Gwen blinked, then shook her head to get back on track as Merlin magicked a pair of trousers over to the bed. Arthur put them on under the covers as she spoke.

“I, I went in to check on Uther as usual this morning. I thought he was still sleeping. I opened the curtains, left to get his breakfast, and came back. Then I, I tried to wake him.”

The tears started flowing again and Merlin felt his stomach clench. He grabbed hold of Arthur’s arm preemptively.

“He...he was stiff. And he wasn’t breathing,” Gwen sobbed. “Arthur, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin thought it was a good thing Arthur was still in bed, because he looked a little pale, a little weak. His eyes glistened with tears and his face scrunched up as the words registered.

“He’s...he’s…?”

Gwen put a hand to her heaving chest, the other gripping her skirts. “The king is dead.”

It was like a blow hit Arthur to the chest. He steadied himself with a hand on the bed, and Merlin heard him expel of sudden huff of air. The tears built up in his eyes and spilt over, running down his cheeks.

“It’s.” Arthur’s voice was thick. He swallowed, started again. “It’s not your fault, Guinevere. You were kind to him ‘til the very end. You did more for him than anyone. Thank you.”

Gwen wiped her tears, sniffling as she nodded. She looked back at Merlin and held his gaze. Merlin read the pleading message in her eyes and nodded back. Of course he’d take care of Arthur when he was needed most.

“Does anyone else know?” Arthur asked.

Gwen shook her head. “I came straight to you first. I’m going to Gaius after this.”

Arthur threw the blanket back and swung his legs out of bed. “I’ll tell Geoffrey.”

Merlin sprang into action, flinging himself across the bed to hold Arthur back. The covers fell away. “Arthur, no. Gaius will take care of it. All the arrangements will be handled. You shouldn’t.”

Arthur snapped his head around, glaring at him. “I _should_. It’s my duty and he would’ve wanted me to take as much responsibility as possible.” He yanked the blanket back over Merlin, covering his immodesty. “Get dressed and get breakfast.”

Merlin sank back to the bed, bunching the covers over his waist and glancing nervously at Gwen. She’d lowered her eyes to the floor.

“Thank you, Guinevere, you may go,” Arthur said as he pulled open his wardrobe across the room. Guinevere did a curtsey that Arthur didn’t notice and fled. Merlin would be sure to speak to her later, explain the gills.

He got out of bed and found his clothes. He was dressed before Arthur, who was having trouble with his belt. He quickly crossed the room and pushed Arthur’s hands out of the way, taking over.

“I’m always here for you, Arthur,” he said as he worked. He simultaneously made Arthur’s boots come magically to him, then bent to put those on his feet. “Even when you’re snappish and angry and upset and crying and telling me to shut up.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin wasn’t done. He kept going until he finished, because Arthur needed to hear the words. “I know you’ll want to be alone at first, and I’ll give you your space. But when you’re ready, I’m here, alright? I always will be. I just wanted you to know that.”

He finished putting on Arthur’s boots and got up. Arthur’s eyes were down, tears steadily, silently falling as he stood there.

“I know, Merlin,” he murmured, still not meeting Merlin’s gaze. “I’ve always known.”

Merlin dared to step forward and raise his hands to Arthur’s face, thumbing away the tears. “Good. The same way you took care of me when my magic was cut off, I’ll take care of you now. Don’t ever be afraid of looking weak in front of me, Arthur. I mean it.”

Arthur’s eyes closed and he swallowed, nodding. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin kissed his damp cheek then let him go.

Merlin busied himself with being the best servant he’d ever been. After fetching breakfast and keeping it hot for Arthur’s return, he turned down the bed, swept the entire chambers, washed the windows, put away laundered clothes from the laundresses, and organised Arthur’s desk. Much of it he used magic for. Actually, the only thing he did with his own hands was attend to Arthur’s desk, while the other chores were simultaneously done around him.

He ate breakfast by himself after a while, glancing between Arthur’s waiting food and the door the entire time. When he finished, he poured himself a goblet of wine, and drank it all in one go for fear of Arthur catching him. He was refreshed afterward, pleasantly warm and fuzzy, and a bit less anxious.

He’d wanted to be there when Arthur got back, but could wait no longer when the sun reached the highest point in the sky. He poked his head out of the chamber door, looked both ways, then sighed and stepped a foot out. Then, on second thought, he went back in and sneaked another drink of wine before nodding to himself and leaving.

The castle was eerily quiet, not like how Merlin had thought it would be following the death of a monarch. There seemed to be a hush over all, even the footsteps of a passing servant quieter than usual, as though out of respect. There was no hurry to and fro, no bustling activity.

Merlin went in search of Gaius first, thinking he would’ve returned to his quarters by now, but finding that not to be the case. He stopped by his own room before leaving—old room, rather, as he hadn’t slept there in a week and probably wouldn’t again—and changed his clothes, put a comb through his hair.

Looking at the few outfits in his wardrobe, he briefly imagined a few more next to them; sheer tunics and silk trousers, how they’d feel on his skin. He once again saw himself adorned in the exotic way Arthur had described, kohl rimming his eyes and bracelets on his arms that clinked when he moved. He shakily exhaled and closed the wardrobe.

He made himself go to Uther’s chambers next. The wine he’d had was starting to make him feel heavy, and he shook himself as he walked down the corridor, thinking he shouldn’t have drank it so fast.

When he reached the old king’s rooms, he furrowed his brow at finding it nearly empty. Only Gwen was there, sitting by herself as she stared blankly out the window. He walked over, sitting in the vacant seat beside her.

“Where’s Sefa?” he asked. Gwen started at his voice, pulled from her thoughts.

She blinked and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday,” she said, sighing. “I hope she’s not fallen ill. But it’s fine. I’m fine. I only needed her help watching over Uther and now it’s mostly...mostly cleaning up.”

Merlin put his hand over hers. “I’m here as well if you need anything.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you, Merlin. There are plenty of other servants who can help. You should be with Arthur. I’m sure he needs you more.”

“Right. About that. I’m sorry you had to, um, find out about us that way.”

Gwen shook her head. “It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have come in like that.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, uncertain how to reply. He took his hand away and set it in his lap, looking out the window.

Things were going on as usual in the courtyard, and he could see the town just as active as always further down the hill. He wondered when the formal announcement would be made, how soon Arthur was to be crowned the new king. He wondered where everyone was.

“Is your chest alright?” Gwen asked, breaking the silence. Merlin looked up. She made a horizontal gesture across her side. “It looked like you’d been cut. But there was no blood.”

The wine still in his system must’ve given him courage, that and the fact that he knew Gwen well enough to know she’d take it well. He could be a bastet like Freya and she’d probably be understanding. He lifted his shirt and exposed his chest, revealing the gills that opened and closed with each expansion and contraction of his lungs.

A hand flew to Gwen’s mouth as she gasped. Merlin kept his eyes on her face. There was shock, wonder, curiosity, fascination. Not a trace of disgust or fright, thankfully.

Had he really misjudged himself all these years, belittling his own self-image because of his mother’s warnings? Was it possible more people would find him “special” than strange?

Hesitantly, Gwen’s hand began to move forward. Her eyes darted up to Merlin’s halfway, and Merlin nodded his assent. He flinched when her fingers touched his skin, but only at the cold. She brushed her hand over the three slits on the left side of his chest as though touching an easily startled animal.

“Are you,” she began, then started over. “You must be human, but are you something else as well? Like the beasts in Gaius’s books on magical creatures. Only not a beast, of course! I mean, well, you know, are you sort of like a demigod, or, or something?”

Merlin lowered his shirt. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I’ve never heard of anything like me, and neither has Gaius. Arthur mentioned tales about magical sea creatures that lure men to their deaths, but I’m not sure how much merit any of that has.”

Gwen nodded. “Mermaids and sea nymphs.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin repeated. “I’ve always thought it had something to do with my being so close to nature. My magic is so elemental, it’s almost like I was cut from the same cloth as the world and shoved into my mother’s womb. But I have my father’s blood too, because I can command dragons. It’s like I’m pieces of different things all in one. Most of the time I just feel like a man who happens to have gills. I don’t know, the truth could be anything. Maybe I am part morgen or sea nymph, for whatever reason the gods decided.”

“What’s it like, breathing underwater?” she asked wide-eyed.

Merlin shrugged. “It feels the same way as breathing above water. Though it does smell a lot different. Do you know where Arthur is?”

“He and Geoffrey spoke for a while earlier as the...as the body was prepared. It was taken to the Great Hall. The last time I heard, Arthur was there.”

Merlin got up. “Thanks. If Sefa turns out to be—”

He froze, nearly buckling under the sudden clarity of recall.

Sefa. The name resurfaced along with the memory, sharp like a lash on Merlin’s mind.

_“I have a daughter. My… my beautiful Sefa_.”

Merlin fell back into the chair, feeling struck.

“Merlin?” Gwen leaned forward, a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Are you alright? Is it the wine? I thought I smelled wine on your breath, but didn’t want to say anything.”

“Sefa,” Merlin said. “The man who captured me and Arthur. His daughter’s name was Sefa. It was the last thing he said before I killed him.”

Gwen’s jaw dropped. “Sefa was…? And I left her alone with him. Oh my gods. Merlin, do you think—”

“It’s not your fault, Gwen. You couldn’t have known. But it does seem likely. Uther was much stronger than he let on, he told me so himself when he ordered everyone to leave him a few days ago. He was meant to last until winter. If Sefa was under the impression he was getting better…”

“She might’ve taken matters into her own hands. Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you Gwen, you’re not to blame. If anyone should be, it’s me, who forgot the name entirely.”

“You couldn’t possibly remember a name you heard only once! And after sleeping for nearly three days at that.”

“Maybe.” Merlin got up again. “I have to go.”

“Don’t tell Arthur right away!” Gwen called after him.

“Of course not,” he threw over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

The knights were all crowded around the door to the Great Hall when Merlin arrived. Whether because it was locked and they weren’t allowed in, or because they’d been charged with heading off people who might try to disturb Arthur, Merlin didn’t know.

They were, unsurprisingly, all quiet and sombre. Gwaine nodded acknowledgingly at him when he reached them, and Percival put a heavy arm around his shoulders.

“How is he?” Merlin asked from under the weight.

“Silent nearly all day,” Leon said.

“There was some weeping earlier,” Gwaine added. “Twice. Terrible sound. Like wailing.”

All eyes glared at him.

“What? It’s Merlin.”

“He’s not left?” Merlin asked, politely stepping from under Percival’s arm. Elyan shook his head. Merlin looked to Leon. “Uther’s passing hasn’t been announced? How soon is Arthur expected to take the throne?”

“Arthur spoke to Geoffrey. It seems he preferred to wait until tomorrow before announcing the king’s death. Give him time to himself before people start coming to pay their respects. He’ll take the throne two days from tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Though honestly Merlin didn’t know how quickly succession usually passed.

“Morgana,” Lancelot explained. “And she’s not the only one who’ll think Uther’s death leaves Camelot weak. There’ll be condolences sent, proposals of princesses for Arthur to marry to secure alliances, and among all of it, Camelot’s enemies planning to test the new king’s strength. These things have to move fast, especially in a time like this.”

“It’s not as though Arthur isn’t ready,” Leon said. “The council thinks so as well. As far as they’re concerned, Arthur’s been King for a while. The ceremony in three days will just make it official.”

Merlin nodded. “Listen, I think you all should go. I know how this sounds, but Arthur wouldn’t want you here. If anything he’d want you out training on the field.” A few of them chuckled, the rest of them cracked a smile. “I’ll stay. I’ll be here when he comes out. You all go.”

They seemed hesitant, but finally Leon nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Arthur knows he has our support. He wouldn’t want us standing around. And he certainly wouldn’t want us to see him after he’s been crying all day.”

They all looked at Merlin. Merlin kept his shoulders square, his chin up. One by one they walked by him, touching him in some way; a ruffle of his hair, a hand on his shoulder. Finally just Lancelot was left, who took the time to hug him.

“See that he’s well taken care of, Merlin.” Merlin hugged him back.

When they were gone, Merlin stood in front of the door, staring at it a few seconds. He put a hand on it, lightly tested it so as to not make too much noise. It was bolted from the other side as he’d thought.

He quickly took care of it with magic, heard the bolt slide out of place. Slowly, still in an effort to be quiet, he opened the door and stepped in, letting it close softly behind him.

Uther lay in the centre of the hall on top of a raised bier, dressed in his regal robes. Arthur was kneeling at his side, his head bowed and one hand on the edge of the stone platform. He looked weak, and Merlin frowned at the thought that he hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

Forcing himself not to be silent a little while longer, Merlin bolted the door again and settled down on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He’d stay as long as necessary.

“I know you’re here,” Arthur said.

It’d been long enough for the sun to begin setting. Arthur had more than once broken into first quiet sobs then louder ones. He hadn’t turned or walked around to the other side of Uther’s body, but he had alternated between standing and various positions of sitting.

Merlin stood up. “Did you want me to leave?”

“No.” Arthur turned and sat with his back to the platform, arms around his knees. He looked like a lost child.

Merlin crossed the hall and sat down beside him. He left anything more up to Arthur, not wanting to overstep but wanting to put his arm around him. Arthur slid closer to him, enough that their sides touched, and leaned into him a bit. He didn’t drop his head to Merlin’s shoulder or indicate he wanted anything else.

“I’m to be officially King in three days. Did you hear?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I can be like him.”

“Nor should you be, Arthur. You’ll be better. You won’t cause meaningless suffering. Uther was a strong king, perceptive, and loyal to his people. He was wise and ruthless in battle. But he isn’t what Camelot needs right now. _You’re_ what it needs. And I have faith in you, like so many others. You’ll take the best qualities of your father and be a king like no other. You’ll bring the land into a new age.”

Arthur looked at him, staring into his eyes. Merlin stared back, reading the mix of uncertainty, gratefulness, and sadness.

“I’d forgot you’re Emrys,” he said.

Merlin put a hand on Arthur’s arm and held it firmly. “And you’re the Once and Future King. You can only be great. It’s what you were destined to be. Just as I was destined to help you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Two Years Later**

They’d spent the day at the lake, Merlin, Arthur, Lance, Gwen, and a few knights. The weather had been lovely, a deep blue sky with wispy clouds and a gentle breeze, the sun warming the earth. Merlin lived for days like this, perfect days.

He’d spent nearly the entire time in the water. Gwen liked to joke that he’d be permanently wrinkled if he kept it up, but in fact something even stranger had happened the more time he dedicated to his second natural environment.

Scales. Various shades of blue and green indoors, that shimmered in the light, especially in the sun. Not slimy like a fish, but just as smooth; it was almost reptilian, like a snake. Only, the colour and iridescent quality was more fish than reptile, making it something entirely unique.

They weren’t over his whole body, thankfully, as he’d worried the first time his fingers brushed over the ones on his forearms. Mostly they were on his back, thickest along the spine and gradually lessening as they spread out toward his sides. The rest of them were in patches—on his calves, his arms, the top of his feet, and of course the area on and around his gills.

They’d come in slowly at the beginning of the previous summer, when Merlin had first taken advantage of his role as royal consort and Court Sorcerer to swim as much as he liked. He’d been relieved when they stopped, had worried himself quite literally sick thinking they’d spread all over and that he’d look like a monster. Luckily the only thing he looked like now, according to Arthur, was more like the rare treasure Arthur always imagined him to be. Arthur especially liked the way his scales glistened in the sunlight, like permanent jewellery under his sheer tunics.

Actually, as his scales had grown, the strength of his ability to charm had as well, which led to Arthur (and others, unfortunately) uncontrollably staring at him with eyes full of lust, often gripping something to keep from taking him right then and there. He hadn’t known what to do to control it, and had become so desperate for answers that he’d turned to the druids.

They’d helped him immensely, even taught him things he hadn’t known he could do, like how to make his hole magically slick. He’d gone back to Camelot after about a fortnight, the results of his practice immediately evident, at which many had been relieved. Lately, it was only when he was confronted with an enemy that he unleashed the full strength of it. And, of course, in the bedroom. It had led to some of the most amazing nights, and Arthur particularly loved the way Merlin could make himself as wet as a girl with a single thought.

As much as he enjoyed spending all day at the lake, he liked returning home to the city as well. It was a good balance, even though he felt obligated to make the most of every nice summer day they had while the it still the season for it. He loathed winter. Returning to the castle now, riding leisurely through the lower town, Merlin smiled, waving back to everyone who said hello.

“Any more word from Morgause?” Arthur asked, leaning over to speak as privately as possible across the distance between their horses.

Merlin nodded. “Another dream last night. I wanted to save telling you for after we went out today.”

“And?”

“I think she believes me, that there’s no trickery in your actions and that magic really is flourishing in Camelot. Now we just wait and see if Morgana is ready to forgive you.” They reached the castle and dismounted, handing their horses off to the stable boys. “We were lucky with the timing. Had we waited any longer, her mind might’ve been warped and we’d’ve lost her for good.”

It certainly didn’t hurt having Morgause sort of on their side either. Nor did it hurt that Uther had died at the hand of Ruadan’s daughter, giving Morgana _some_ sense of victory and closure, or so Morgause had said she observed. Had he died naturally she might’ve felt Arthur still needed to suffer a bit more, might’ve not had her thirst for vengeance quenched.

They entered the castle and Merlin stopped by the kitchens to order their supper be brought to them in a candlemark or so while Arthur went ahead to their chambers. He was half naked when Merlin arrived, changing into clothes more appropriate for lounging around inside.

Merlin went over to him, letting some of his hold over his allure drop. The effect was almost instantaneous. At the touch of Merlin’s hands helping him undress, Arthur looked up with dark eyes.

“You won’t even let me rest first?” His voice was light and teasing, almost feigning annoyance, but on his face was a clear expression of struggling to maintain control. After another two seconds, he did place a rough hand on Merlin’s hip, unable to keep himself from touching.

Merlin let his lips spread in a low grin. He hadn’t even let loose the full extent of it yet, but then, when it came to people who already found him desirable and attractive, he didn’t need to.

He draped his arms over Arthur’s bare shoulders, standing with hips invitingly cocked forward. “Haven’t you learnt by now that I’m a little bit insatiable?”


End file.
